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THE 


AMERICAN DUCHESS 





THE PRINCESS DE BOURG 

•» 


G. 


NOV 16^896 
NEW YORK: 



tv. Dillingham Co,, Publishers, 


MDCCCXCVI, 



Copyright, 1896, by 
G. W. Dillingham Co., New York. 


Copyright, 1896, by 

Digby, Long and Co., London, Eng. 


(all rights reserved.) 


IDe&ication 


TO MY BELOVED DAUGHTER 


LAURA 


WHO HAS BEEN MY PRIDE AND COMFORT ALWAYS, AND WHO 
HAS OPENED FOR ME THE BEAUTIFUL GATES OF 
“THE IDEAL WORLD, WHERE THERE 
IS NO DESPAIR.” 


“And oh, most like a regal child wert thou 1 


Fair shoulders, curling lips and dauntless brow, 


And proud the lifting of thy stately head, 

And firm the bearing of thy conscious tread. 

Caroline Norton 


Venice, 4M Sei>icmher 1894. 




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CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

I. Ambition, . , , 7 • 1 

II. Kitty, ... 4 . 11 

III. Wyndham de Montfort, . , 27 

TV. Treacliery, . . . . .37 

V. Peril, . . . , . 55 

VI. Passion, , . . , ,112 

YII. Parting, . . . , .138 

YIII. New York, . . . .152 

IX. The Duke, 174 

X. The Sealed Letter, . , . .198 

XI. They canT fool Me ! . . . 214 

XII. Love, ..... 235 

XIII. Marry You, and not first tell Papa ! . 245 

XI Y. Jealousy, . . . , .262 

XY. The Morning after the Ball, . . 269 

XYI. Murder, . . . . .287 

XYII. I am Free!. . . . .311 

XYIII. Death, 317 

XIX. Farewell, .... . 337 

XX. The Eve of the Wedding, . . . 344 

XXI. The American Duchess, . , , 357 





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The 


AMERICAN DUCHESS 

CHAPTER I 

AMBITION 

“ Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low vaulted past ! 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last. 

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. 

Till thou art free. 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea 1 ” 
Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

“Have I' seen the duke? No, and I don’t 
want to. There ! ” 

“You needn’t be so rude, Kitty. I was 
over to your Aunt Nan’s yesterday, and she 
said you were going to be sent to your gra’ma’s 
in New York, and there you will see the duke, 
sure.” 

“ I don’t want to see him, and I won’t go 
to New York, and leave poor father all alone, 
with only stupid old Nan.” 

A 


2 


The American Duchess 


Kitty threw up her chin in the air with 
a defiant gesture, the better displaying its 
central cleft, and the delicate curves of her 
throat. She stared defiantly at her tormentor, 
with wide-opened blue-grey eyes, whose long 
black lashes, thus turned upwards, seemed to 
kiss the sweeping arch of her brows. The 
delicate colour under her transparent skin 
deepened quickly to an angry red. With an 
impatient jerk of first one little sunburnt 
hand, and then the other, she threw .th<» 
masses of her heavily waving hair backwaros. 
As she moved it, the sun glanced over its 
length, and her companion eyed it enviously, 
as she sat facing Kitty. She, too, was hand- 
some, but she had not the winning grace 
of the other ; she knew this, and hated Kitty 
accordingly. 

“ You’d make a good duchess yourself, Bessie ; 
you’d better go hunt the duke if you take such 
an interest in him — that’s if you get the chance, 
but I daresay you won’t. I’m sure I don’t 
suppose he’d care to come around here when 
he has all the Charleston people wild about him. 
I heard of nothing else when I went there on 
Wednesday to see Uncle Jack.” 

“ I wish 1 had had your luck to be there now ; ” 


Ambition 


3 

and Bessie looked with contempt at 'her little 
cousin. “ But you’re so mighty simple that you 
came straight back instead of staying on and 
getting a good time.” 

“ I shouldn’t want a good time away from 
dad, and I won’t go to New York,” said Kitty, 
with emphatic gesture, as she shook out her pink 
cotton frock. She had arisen, and the setting 
sun behind her illumined her slender form, 
making her appear much taller than she really 
was to the other girl still sitting amidst the 
new-mown hay. 

Bessie looked out moodily towards the 
mountains, of which Pisgah was king. She 
was wondering what like was this English 
duke, and remembered tales wherein great 
marriages had been made, and great riches and 
high positions gained. The rose-colour of her 
mental vision blinded her actual vision to the 
magnificence of setting sun, which went down 
over the shoulder of old Pisgah, and filled 
the skies with gold and crimson, bringing 
into sight line after line of lesser intermediate 
hills, never distinguishable from one another 
in the broader light of day, and only revealed 
to man’s wondering vision by the magic light 
of this most magic hour. Bessie saw nothing. 


4 


The American Duchess 


A sullen look was upon her handsome, regular 
face, and her pretty, full lips were slightly 
pursed in discontent. She sat with hands 
clasped about her knees, blind to all around 
her, and pondered. Why was she not Kitty ? 
What would she not have given to be herself 
and yet in Kitty’s place. It was ridiculous 
for Kitty to pretend she would not leave her 
father with Aunt Nan. She herself would not 
have hesitated for a moment had Fate but 
given her such a chance. New York in the 
winter, Newport and Europe in the summer — 
what a life of delights ! To be admired by 
everybody, and to know everyone worth 
knowing, and, above all, to be rich, very rich, 
and rich in her own right. The thought 
was overpowering. Bessie closed her eyes as 
if to shut out all lesser visions. Her simple 
Southern life had always been distasteful to 
her. She longed for the wings of wealth that 
she might fly away into the wide world, which 
to her meant New York, and there live a life 
of idleness and enjoyment. She hated toil, 
and life in the South means work for all, 
with very few exceptions, especially for women, 
left as they are without reliable help, and 
subject to every caprice of the decadent 


Ambition 


5 


coloured race. Bessie’s head had dropped upon 
her hands, and she was wrapt in reverie, when 
from the house came the sound of the rattling 
of tea things being roughly jerked upon a table, 
and forks and knives clattered in heaps upon 
the board. Then a weak voice raised itself and 
called her name twice, and Bessie’s mother 
appeared at the kitchen door, her hands and 
apron all flowery from the making of the cakes 
which would in a few minutes come hot upon 
the table. 

Bessie’s dreams were scattered. 

At this moment sounds of horses’ hoofs and 
merry child voices were heard approaching 
under the great trees which filled the “yard.” 
Then through the dusk could be discerned an 
old white horse dragging a buggy load of 
laughing youngsters, who screamed the louder 
when they saw the lighted windows and signs 
of bustle within, telling them of home and 
tea time. As the buggy slowly made its way 
past the kitchen, the delicious odour of the 
frying chicken and the scent of the hot cakes 
brought a howl of delight from the children, 
Avhose already outrageous appetites were further 
whetted by the pleasant smells. The old horse 
drew himself up before the verandah and set 


6 


The American Dtichess 


his front feet resolutely, as much as to say that 
he had done his duty, and did not mean to 
budge another imdi. The buggy wheels ceased 
their complaining, and an ancient “nigger,” 
with grizzled pate, rushed out of the kitchen, 
his mouth- full of hot cake, and his eyes rolling 
with the effort he was making to swallow the 
same before “Mister Joe” should demand 
speech of him. 

“ Come, Unc’ Jake, hurry up ! What are 
you bungling about now ? ” 

Jake had got alongside the old horse, and 
was pretending to look at the harness whilst 
he made a superhuman effort to get the scald- 
ing cake down his throat. As Joe called out 
he raised his head, shut his gaping mouth 
firmly, and stretched his neck forward with an 
undulatory motion such as a chicken makes 
when swallowing, then opening his eyes wide, 
with a final gasp of relief, replied solemnly, — 
“ Massa Joe, I’se tendin’ to dat strap what 
bruk’ yest’d’y, and I’se mighty glad it ain’t 
bruk’ ag’in ter-day, mighty glad, mos’ mighty.” 

“ Here, get out of that, Jake, you old fool, 
and help me in with little Jim ; he’s asleep.” 

A broad smile illumined the old nigger’s 
furrowed kindly face, as he tenderly took the 


A mbition 


1 


sleeping child from Joe, and turned in to the 
house. Thus also had he carried Joe himself 
in the old slave times “ before the war,” that 
pathetic date which all Southerners make use 
of, and which one hears continually, remind- 
ing one with sadness of missing sons, changed 
fortunes and ruined homes. As the old man 
walked with the child in his arms, Bessie 
passed him without a word to Joe or a look 
at old Jake’s burden. At the kitchen door 
■she entered, and, shaking herself free of the 
clamorous, clinging children who instantly 
surrounded her, passed through the long, low 
apartment with its pleasant smell of burning 
wood, made foul by the odours of two dim 
paraffin lamps, and went into the large tea- 
room beyond. There she found the grown-up 
part of the family already at table — her 
mother with the big coffee - pot before her, 
and around her many brothers and sisters, 
who with their families had come up to 
this mountain retreat from the distressing 
heats of “the Mississippi bottom”. At one 
end of the table sat Uncle John, a smile 
upon his kindly face as he dispensed fried 
chicken from a heaped-up dish before him ; 
and at his side sat Kitty, her lovely cheeks 


8 The American Duchess 

still sliglitly scorched by the cooking fire over 
which she had been working whilst helping 
pretty little Mrs Kitty, her aunt, and Bessie’s 
mother, since she had left Bessie to her 
dreams of dukes, marriages and the great 
world. Bessie threw herself discontentedly 
upon the hard wooden seat next Uncle John, 
and looked with disgust at Kitty, just now 
laughing up into her uncle’s face and cuddling 
one of the little ones who sat by her olh^r 
side. The table was already full, and thus the 
buggy load of little hungry stomachs had to 
bide their time till the elders had eaten, and 
be contented later on with such scraps of the 
drumsticks as remained of the fried chicken, 
grown cold and sodden in the midst of a sea 
of flakey fat, and odd bits of cold hot cake, 
and bread without much butter. Of course, 
no one could be expected to worry over 
what children ate, and the butter, somehow, 
generally melted and ran out even before the 
elders had finished — the hot eakes needed so 
much. Two tall paraffin lamps stood upon the 
long table, illumining either end of it, and 
casting a bright light upon the faces of the 
elders seated round, each with its own index 
of cares and worries writ upon it. Breaking 


Ambition 


9 


through these lines of wearied ones it passed 
beyond and shone upon the groups of small 
heads peering in at every window, all with 
the same expression of hungry expectancy 
dancing in their eager eyes. 

Pushing through the group of white children 
at the door, came a sturdy, coloured child, not 
darker than some Spaniards are, and with a 
brilliant carmine in her cheeks. Her face 
lacked the careless, happy child look — she had 
already begun to taste of the weariness of 
the battle of life. Solemnly coming up to 
j\Irs Kitty, she said, — 

^'Miss Liza wants some hot cake.'' Then she 
stood stolidly waiting, with the corner of her 
old cotton pinafore twisting in both hands. 
She never stirredj but her restless eyes searched 
the whole length of the table, and she took 
in everything which was going on at a glance. 

'‘Gran'ma mustn’t have hot cake, mother," 
called out Bessie from the other end of the 
table. ‘‘The doctor said so last time he was 
over to the house." Here she rose, glad to 
get away, and said, “I'll go to her myself. 
Here, you, go and wash dishes," she added, 
giving the black child a cuff as she passed 
her on her way to the door. Eubbing her 


lo The American Duchess 

cheek slowly, the little one turned towards 
the kitchen, passed through it, and ran quickly 
out into the night. Bessie’s exit caused a 
general movement of the elders outwards to 
the verandah and adjacent parlour ; and a 
rush of the little ones inwards. They came 
scrambling into the hardly— vacated seats, 
noisily seizing plates and dishes indiscrimin- 
ately, and raised a general clamour for the 
black child ; who, though only of their own 
age, now appeared, and undertook the general 
superintendence of the noisy horde. 


CHAPTER II 


KITTY 

‘ A pei"fect woman, nobly planned, 

To warn, to comfort, and command.’ 

William Worsdwoeth. 

Next morning, Kitty, without waiting for the 
general breakfast, rode off home on her tall 
black mule. She had waylaid Mary, the white 
dairywoman, on her way from milking. As 
they passed old Jake’s cabin, they saw Aunt 
Dinah making wheat cakes. Spying her dar- 
ling, old Dinah called out, — 

“ Glory ! Miss Kitty, am dat yo’ ? Come 
in and hab some of yer old Dinah’s wheat 
cakes. Brung in dat milk, Mary, and let’s 
make de chile eat her fill ’fore she sets out 
over ter Massa George’s. Woan’t yer tak’ one' 
ob de boys along o’ yer. Miss Kitty, it be 
mighty lonely fo’ yer all ’lone_ a top o’ that 
ridiculus mountain ob a critter, and I’m mane 
feared to let ye go. Come in, honey.” 


T2 


The American Duchess 


“Don’t you worry about me, Aunt Dinah,” 
laughed Kitty, brightly. “ I want to get a 
cup from you to drink some of the milk, and — 
yes, I’m hungry,” she said, taking a plate of 
Dinah’s delicious new-baked cakes, hot, and 
with some of the sweet wood-ash still clinging 
to them in parts. 

“ My ! Miss Kitty yo’s lookin’ mighty lubly 
this mornin’ ! War yo’ get that pictur’ ob a 
sun-bonnet, all covered wid dem lace ruffles. 
Golly ! I doan’t want to hab de gettin’ ob it 
up in de wash. My ! Mary, but de chile is 
gettin’ han’somer ebery day. I tells Jake 
sometimes her ha’r ’ud mak’ de angels ’em- 

selves envious wid its bein’ all colours at once ; 
gold at de turn ob ebery wave in it, an’ 
chestnut ; and fac’ it looks as if de sun had 

kissed it and lef it all afire wid glory ; an’ 

it so thick and long, too. An’ her eyes is 
like two stars in her face, and de colour 

nebber still in dem pretty cheeks, cornin’ and 
goin’, cornin’ and goin’, but nebber gone. Oh, 
chile, chile, yo’s a sight too good an’ lubly fo’ 
dis wicked earf” Here the old negro woman 
came behind Kitty, as she sat laughing and 
eating the cakes, and with a passionate gesture 
laid her old black hands on the pretty hair. 


Kitty 1 3 

and, turning backwards lier pet’s Lead, kissed 
the w'Lite, upturned forehead fervently. 

“ Dinah ! Dinah ! you’ll make me spill the 
milk ! ” 

The sun-bonnet had fallen to the ground, 
leaving Kitty’s head bare in the sunlight. 

Plain-faced Mary had sat herself upon an 

upturned tub, and wagged her head in ap- 
proval of every point of old Dinah’s eulogy. 
She and Dinah had nursed the girl from 
infancy, and they each felt a sort of pro- 
prietorship in her. Her wonderful loveliness 
filled them with pride, as they saw it develop- 
ing each day more fully. 

“ She’d make a lovely duchess — ” began 
Mary, but checked herself with a start, as 

she saw the indignant light in Kitty’s eyes. 

“Mary, how dare you! I wouldn’t marry 
that horrid duke if there wasn’t another man 
in the world 1” 

“ ]\Iarcy ! Miss Kitty, doan’ yo’ git so 
obstretcherous. It ’ud be only fit that yo’ 

shu’d git him then insted ob one ob dem 

rampagin’ Charles’on gurls as dey say is 
sho’ ter git him, golden coronet an’ all. Dey’s 
mighty bold hussies down dar. I’m think- 
in’!” 


14 The American Dtichess 

Here old Uncle Jake appeared, leading one 
of the tallest and wickedest-looking black mules 
ever foaled. The beast knew and respected 
Uncle Jake, so he walked along pretty respect- 
ably, merely rolling his eyeballs and nervously 
twitching his tail, which, by the way, looked 
as if it had been grievously gnawed by 

rats. As he followed Unc’ Jake, each time he 

lifted his hind feet he held them suspended 

and quivering for a moment, as if longing to 
lash in to some of his multitudinous enemies. 
That mule had lots of character, and a mule 
with character always has enemies. A kind of 
devious smile lifted that mule’s lips every time 
he lifted those hind feet ; this smile had a 

saddening ' effect upon those who encountered 
the brute unawares, and that beast was called, 
being nothing if he wasn’t a good old Southern 
democrat, “ President Cleveland,” by preference, 
“ Cleve,” for short in the family circle; but 
when Kitty introduced him in society she 
always gave him his full appellation. 

“ Lor’ ! Miss Kitty, ‘ Cleve’s ’ bin an’ bit de ears 
nerely off of ole ‘Hubert.’ Fm ’fraid dat done 
woan’t be wuff ennyphing fo’ a month ter 
come ; an’ little Miss May wantin’ ter larn 
ridin’.” 


Kilty \ 5 

“ Cleve ” rolled liis eyes worse than ever, as 
he remembered. 

“ I told you not to put ‘ Cleve ’ along with 
‘ Hubert,’ Jake. Why don’t you mind what I 
tell you ? Here, give me your hand.” 

With a light spring Kitty vaulted into the 
saddle, and as “ Cleve ” was in a hurry to be gone, 
she had only time to turn and wave her whip 
hand to them as they watched her disappear, 
laughingly, around the shoulder of the hill. 

“None of the rest of them can touch her 
fur goodness,” said Mary, raising her milk-pail. 
“You should see the lovely silk shawl she 
brought her old gran’ma from Charleston, and 
me a warm muffler to keep the cold out o’ 
my ears when I’m milking in the winter.” 

“ Bless yo’, an’ she didn’t forget her old 
Dinah, neether. Look at dem yaller ribbius ! 
I’se goin’ ter wear ’em ter camp-meetiu’ Sunday ; 
and Jake, she brung him a fine tie, all red, 
and blue spots on it. But Miss Bessie ’d never 
ha’ thought to ’a done it. She’s all so took up 
wid herself, and she ain’t near as pritty as Miss 
Kitty, neether.” 

Old Dinah stuck her comfortable arms akimbo 
and looked inquiry at Mary, who had set the 
weighty pail down again. Mary’s cheery red 


1 6 The American Dtichess 

face beamed, as she pushed back her big pink 
cotton sun-bonnet, which had fallen forward over 
her nose. 

“ Miss Bessie’s always worryin’ about getting 
married, and bein’ rich. I declare since we 
heard all them stories about that English lord, 
or juke, or something, that’s turning all the 
ladies’ heads in Charleston, she’s sat and sulked 
herself quite pale. They do say — at least, I 
he,ard Miss Liza telling Mr Joe — that Kitty’s 
to be sent to her other gran’ma in New York 
to be brought into society,” 

“ Bother society an’ old Madame — what yer 
call ’er ! ” burst out Dinah, indignantly. “ She 
nebber took no notice ob de chile all dese yars, 
and nebber even come ter see her own pore 
chile and close her eyes when she was dyin’ ; 
and that blessed little babe upon her breast. 
She has nebber fergivin’ her marryin’ Massa 
George, nebber.” 

“ I don’t believe they’ll git Kitty to ever 
leave her father,” said Mary, thoughtfully, “ and 
they’ll — ” 

“ Can you tell me the way to Bald’s 
Shoulder ? ” interrupted a man’s pleasant- 
sounding voice. 

“ Golly ! ” exclaimed old Dinah, starting 


17 


Kitty 

round and facing a stranger. “ War’ yo’ 
say, sail ? ” she inquired, with a broad smile 
beaming all over her shiny black visage, and 
showing her fine white teeth. 

“ The way to Bald’s Shoulder ? ” The 
stranger spoke with an unfamiliar accent, 
and the two women regarded him closely as 
Dinah answered, — 

“ Thar’s two ways. Thar’s de car’age road, 
an’ that takes yer most o’ four hours ter 
git aroun’ dere ; and den yo’ can git ’cross 
by de short cut, pass’ Massa George’s corner, 
an’ dat makes two hours shorter.” 

“ Thank you,” replied the stranger courte- 
ously. “ Can you point out the way by the 
short cut ? ” Here he slipped a big silver 
dollar into the old woman’s palm. 

“ Why, ’corse I can, sah, nat’rally. Where’s 
dat blame ole niggar gone to, I wonder ? ” 
she burst out, beginning to hunt old Uncle 
Jake. “ Oh, Jake ! oh, Jake ! Yo’s alius out 
ob de way when yo’s wanted, an’ in it when 
yo' isn’t. Jake, I say ! ” 

Meanwhile, the stranger stood watching Mary 
as, with her heavy pail, she quietly went 
along the path which led towards the house. 

“Oh, Jake,” shouted the old wife again, 
B 


1 8 The American Duchess 

“ liurry up, yo’, doan’t yo’ see the stranger 
wants ter find the bridle - path ter Bald’s 
Shoulder^ Git, an’ put him in de way ob 
doin’ so ? ” 

Uncle Jake shambled up at this moment, 
bowing profoundly to the handsome stranger 
who stood quietly awaiting developments by 
the door. 

“Yo’ come ’long o’ me, sah, an’ I’ll soon 
d’rect yo’, sah.” Jake gave a nervous hitch 
to one side of his old pants, as he glanced 
up sideways at Aunt Dinah, who stood snort- 
ing with anger at his tardiness. 

“ Git ’long thin, will yo’, yo’ worfless ole 
niggar. Hurry up ! ” was Dinah’s parting 
benediction. ' 


An hour later Kitty turned into the bridle- 
path from the road. She had not gone by 
it direct, as she had halted to see old Dinah’s 
daughter, Olympia, who was sick in fier cabin 
down by Tom Harst’s place. Thus it was 
nearly two hours after starting out for home 
that she turned “Cleve’s” head into the shady 
bridle-path. The sun had mounted high, and 
the air began to fill with the drowsy hum 
of -busy insect life. The trees overhead, meet- 


»9 


Kitty 

ing, gave a cool shade, with here and there 
a break through which the sunbeams pierced, 
making a fantastic patterning of dancing leaf 
reflections beneath the black mule’s feet as 
he walked leisurely onwards. The morning 
was so fresh that Kitty did not hasten. She 
was enjoying this ride through the woods 
where the sun had even yet not dried the 
dew from off its leafy bed. Kitty was think- 
ing, and her thoughts were not altogether un- 
troubled. She was disturbed at what they 
had told her about sending her to New York. 
She thought with contempt of Bessie and her 
arguments, and became more than ever fixed 
in her determination never to leave her father. 
As she rode she made a lovely picture seated 
high upon the old mule’s back. She wore 
no riding - habit ; simply her pretty, pink, 
cotton frock which, with its frills and laces 
and coquettish Southern fixing.s, made a 
quaint effect. Her sun-bonnet, so much ad- 
mired by Dinah, had slipped backwards and 
now hung loosely by its strings behind her, 
and one little foot could be seen half 
buried in its Mexican stirrups. Her head 
was slightly bent, and she did not see the 
stranger, who, at the sound of her approach, 


20 


The American Duchess 


stood still and watched her with delighted 
surprise. Just at this point _ the path was 
very narrow and closed in on one side by 
two immense pine trees, and on the other 
by a great boulder ; the stronger leant up 
against this latter as she came towards him. 
Just as she had almost reached his side, the 
mule for the first time perceived him and 
began snorting, kicking, and rearing in the 
confined space. For an instant Kitty, too, 
was taken by surprise and was almost thrown. 
The stranger, not accustomed to the fine horse- 
manship of Southern girls, thought a cata- 
strophe imminent, and sprang to her assistance, 
trying to clutch “ Cleve’s ” bridle. This made 
the brute madder than ever ; before his head 
could be seized he made a swerve, and, letting 
fly his heels, laid the stranger prone upon the 
grass beneath the pines. Kitty could not 
suppress a little cry as she saw her would- 
be rescuer lying so still with closed eyes, his 
hat off, and a thin stream of blood coming 
from beneath the wavy hair above his temple. 
She did not see all this at first, as “ Cleve, ” 
rearing- and kicking still, was almost un- 
manageable ; but, finally, getting him under 
control, she dismounted, and went to the 


Kitty 2 1 

injui’ccl man’s assistance, TTc was unconscious. 
The brute had kicked him in the shoulder, and 
slightly grazed his head causing the blood to 
flow. This Kitty staunched with her hand- 
kerchief. Finding this too small with which 
to bind the head she made a compress of it, 
and then seeing that one of the pockets in 
the stranger’s white flannel blazer contained 
one of silk, she drew it promptly forth, the 
shy colour mounting to her hair as she did so, 
and with it bound the little compress against 
the wound. Her patient, though young, was 
a large, heavy man, and the slender child 
found it almost impossible to move his head 
without assistance. His face, white to ghastli- 
ness, and disfigured by the bloodstain, shocked 
her by its immobility. She wondered what she 
had l)ctter do. If she had but water — anything 
with which to moisten his lips — but there was 
no water within a mile, and she felt afraid 
to leave him there alone. He might be 
robbed or killed outright for the handsome 
clothes and watch he wore. She saw he 
carried revolvers in his sash, and probably 
had money in his pockets. What could he be 
doing here, alone and a stranger, she wondered. 
Suddenly she noticed the gleam of a silver 


22 


The American Duchess- 


flask amongst the grass. She reached for it 
and opening it, found it contained brandy. 
Slipping her slender arm beneath her com- 
panion’s head, she strove to force some of 
the fluid between his lips ; failing this, the 
girl, with ready wit, dipped her little finger 
into the cognac, and with it moistened the 
unresponsive mouth. Five minutes passed thus. 
Tlie birds twittered overhead, the insects 
hummed around her and the detestable black 
mule could be seen at a distance quietly 
cropping the grass, unmoved at the sight 
of the mischief he had done. 

The sun mounted slowly higlier and 
higher to the zenith. The dew was gone 
and the summer’s day drew out its length 
undisturbed, and exactly like the other 
summer’s days which preceded, and would 
follow it. Little Kitty sitting there help- 
less, with her ghastly burden upon her 
knees, presently saw the old mule stop crop- 
ping, give himself a good shake, and then 
start off at a brisk trot towards home. This 
was a relief ; she knew that succour would 
soon come. Presently where she sat, the sun 
mounting higher, pierced through the green 


23 


Kitty 

above them and came beating down upon the 
hurt man’s face. It was very hot. This dis- 
tressed Kitty. She could not move her 
patient, and she feared the power of the sun 
upon his already injured head. Slipping her 
arm from under his neck, she gently let it 
rest upon the grass, and, rising, took up a 
position upon his other side in a vain en- 
deavour to screen him with her own body. 
This she found impossible as the sun’s rays 
were almost perpendicular. Then she took 
her sun-bonnet, and with it, and some slender 
boughs, and the pretty white lace she wore 
about her shoulders, made some sort of shelter 
above the still face. Then she sat and waited, 
and time dragged wearily onwards. She had 
been so busy in her efforts to restore the 
injured man that she had not fully realised 
her position. Suddenly, with his face now 
hidden from her, a sense of terrible loneliness 
overpowered her, and she became horiibly 
afraid. She saw before her his silent form 
motionless, his hands lying helpless, palm 
upwards, not a tremor, not a quiver, not the 
faintest sign of life. Horror, gasping, dry- 
throated horror seized her, and she felt as if 
ghe could not remain there another moment. 


24 


The American Dtuhess 


The very sunlight seemed clouded in her sight, 
and the soft whisperings of the trees over- 
head were changed to weird mutterings all 
around her. She knew that she was alone, 
and yet she was surrounded, suffocated with 
horror of the unknown. Springing to her 
feet, she tore the screen from before his face. 
She must see him, have the companionship of 
his unconscious presence, know he was not 
dead. The sun had passed onwards, and the 
shade had returned. The pathos of his drawn 
features appealed silently to her, and enabled 
her to regain some control over herself. She 
knelt down beside him, and again moistened 
his lips with the brandy, then she chafed his 
hands. As she did so, she noticed their fine 
form, and could tell that they had never been 
used to labour. Thus engaged in trying to 
restore him, she felt the situation become 
more endurable. She crouched closer to his 
side in the strange, indefinable terror which 
possessed her, and insensibly her little hand 
closed tightly over his. It was as if the liv- 
ing called upon the dead for aid. Bending 
over him thus, so close that her light breath 
fanned his face, she felt the fingers she held 
contract about her own, saw his eyelids 


Kitty 25 

quiver, and heard his breath come with a 
lieavy gasp. 

“ What is it ? ” he asked weakly, opening 
his eyes in a dazed manner, and looking up 
into the face bending so near his own. 

“Oh, thank God! you are alive, and not 
really dead. I thought — ” Kitty could get no 
further, she caught her breath, and then, 
covering her face with lier hands, began to 
sob like the child she really was. 

“ You poor little creature, what is it ? ” 
Aroused by the sight of her grief, he tried 
to raise himself upon his elbow, but the pain 
of his shoulder overcame him, and, nearly 
fainting, he slid down again upon the 
grass. 

“ Give me a little cognac, please,” he 
whispered faintly. Kitty, ashamed of her 
weakness, drew her hands from her face, and, 
still hardly able to suppress her sobbing, again 
knelt beside him, and with an innocent lack 
of affectation, quietly slipped her arm beneath 
his head and put the cognac to his lips. 

“ Well, Kit, but this is a nice business. 
What have you and Nan done with the 
stranger ? And what does the doctor say ? ” 


26 


The American Duchess 


Kitty’s father passed his arm fondly . round 
her, and drew her head upon his breast. 

“Nan’s there, dad. He fainted when the 
doctor was fixing his shoulder, but he’s a 
heap better now, and they’ve given him some- 
thing to make him sleep.” 

They were sitting in the porch on the old 
sofa, which, in summer time, was kept there 
for the comfort of the invalid master of the 
house. Kitty nestled closer to her father. 
She was tired, and the events of this long day 
had almost been too much for her. Presently 
she raised her head, and her usually dancing 
eyes looked solemnly into those of her father’s. 

“Do you know, dad,” she said slowly, “I’m 
right glad they came when they did. T was 
beginning to feel as if I could not stay with 
him any longer when Pete and Aunt Nan and 
the others came riding up. My ! but I gave 
‘ Cleve ’ a beating coming home ! ” 


CHAPTEK III 


WYNDHAM DE MONT FORT 

“No, never from this hour to part, 

We’ll live and love so true.” 

Oliver Goldsmith. 

Next morning Wyndham de Montfort was 
aroused from his drugged sleep by the sounds 
of a sharp altercation going on outside his 
windows. 

“ I say, Unc’ Pete, yo’ doan’ know nuflSn’ at 
all about it ! ” 

“ Maybe I doesn’t, Judy, but maybe I knows 
more dan yo’ contemplate ’bout it. Thar ! ” 

“ I guess not, Unc’ Pete, yo’ was all’ys makin’ 
up romances ’bout ebberyorie, an’ doan’ yo’ know 
that a duke’s mighty like a king. He are not, 
likely ter be cavortin’ all ober de Ian’ by his- 
self ; he was to wear a golden coronet, an’ 
take a crowd ob help aroun’ wif him, where 
eber he goes.” 

“ I knows that well ’nuf. But somethin’ 

?7 


28 


The American Duchess 


might have happened ter separate him from 
his sweete. Didn’t we both ofFen hear ole 
Aunt Mary read just that story ’bout a lord, 
or prince or something, gettin’ out of his 
car’age for a minute, and then, right away, 
gittin’ swallered up by the darkness. I hab 
nebber forgot dat tale, it was fit ter make yo’ 
blood cruddle.” Here Unc’ Pete gave a 
shudder, and chattered his teeth so that 
Wyndham heard him, and Judy, from shrill 
screams of anger, began to speak in a calmer 
voice. 

“ One thing, I sartin ob, Unc’ Pete.” 

“ Wot’s dat ? ” Pete rubbed his chin with the 
back of his hand, screwing up his immense 
mouth as he did so. 

“Pm perfec’ly sartin our Miss Kitty won’t 
hab nuffin’ ter say ter him, if he do turn out 
ter be a juke or any of them titles. She’s 
dead sot agin all that sort o’ trash ; an’ I doan’ 
blame her seein’ how cruel her ’ristercratic old 
gra’ma have alius bin ter Massa George, not 
eben cornin’ ter close her own pore chile’s eyes 
when Kitty was born, and now wantin’ pore 
Massa George ter give her up altergether, and 
let her leave him and go an’ live ’mongst dem 
heartless folks in New York. No, nat’rally 


29 


IVyndkam de Montfort 

Kitty’s dead sot ’gaiiit goin’ ter New York, 
an’ leavin’ Massa George, an’ I reckon she’d 
be the first to put a juke out ob de house if 
she caught him in it.” 

Wyndham de Montfort could not help over- 
hearing these observations, and smiled quietly 
as he listened. 

“Dear little Kitty,” he thought, “I feel I 
am indebted to her care, perhaps for my life, 
and no doubt she has a perfect right to have 
what opinions she sees fit regarding ‘jukes’ 
as that old black woman calls them. I wonder 
how long this confounded shoulder is going to 
keep me in my room.” He winced as he moved 
slightly, and then concluded to lie still and wait 
for the coming of Aunt Nan and the doctor. 

Presently the door opened quietly and 
old Pete appeared. “ Good-mornin,” sah. 
How’s yo’ ter day, sah ? ” Then he began 
busying himself in putting things to rights 
about the room. He brought a message 
from Aunt Nan to say she would arrive shortly 
with breakfast for the invalid. Wyndham 
recognised his voice and proceeded to interro- 
gate him as to the accident of yesterday, and 
then quietly brought the conversation round 
to little Kitty Old Pete could not say 


30 


The American Dtickess 


enough in praise of her and of Massa George, 
her invalid father. Miss Nan came in for 
praise also, but in a somewhat modified form. 
Old Pete was a model servant both in appear- 
ance and manners, one of the few yet remain- 
ing from the old slave times “ ’fo’ de warr ” 
as he explained to the Englishman, telling of 
how he had been born, and reared, and lived 
always with the family. 

“Why, sah, it’s no wonder I loves our 
little Miss Kitty. I see’d her horned, an’ 
carried Massa George in dese arms afore her. 
My, but he was a han’som gen’leman when 
he bid de ole massa good-bye an’ went north 
ter New York. Ter see him now as he is, 
wid his healph ruined by dem injuries he 
got in de Charles ’on earthquake, yo’ wouldn’t 
know him. He was down ter visit Massa Jack, 
who is his brother, an’ is a big merchant in 
Charles’on ; and just about de time dey was 
all goin’ ter retire der came a tremenjous 
shaking ob de whole earf, and de houses 
begun to crack wif reports jest like pistols 
an’ guns goin’ off, and Massa George he 
rushed ter his brother’s room, an’ caught up 
de baby ; an’, jest as he war almost down de 
stairs, de wall on one side gabe way, an’ fell, 


Wyndham de Montfort 31 

an’ caught him right ’cross his back, an’ he 
had ter be dug out of de ruins. They found 
him ’most dead, but de little baby were per- 
tected by his body and de lowest stairs, and 
wasn’t even scratched. Golly ! but de Lawd 
gabe us a mighty shakin’ up dat time ; dey 
ses dey felt it eben up hear ; but I was down 
t’ Charles’on wid Massa George, an’ I saw it 
all. The quality all rushin’ out into de streets, 
many ob ’m didn’t eben have der clothes on, 
an’ de cryin’ an’ screeehin’ of de colo’r’d 
folks was drelFul, dey thought de day of judg- 
ment was come ; an’ der was all de rich 
whites campin’ ’bout in de streets, an’ de 
ladies an’ de white chil’ren wif nothin’ ter 
cover dem ; an’ den de colo’r’d people, some 
of dem bad niggars got crazy an’ begun 
hollerin’ an’ laughin’ an’ cursin’. I declar’, 
sail, you’d a thought hell itself was loose, 
an’ dey all ’roun’ an’ ’mongst de pore whites, 
an’ doin’ things as wud a made de debble 
hisself ’shamed, drinkin’ an’ goin’ on, an’ 
shoutin’, cursin’ an’ dancin’, an’ singin’ 
hymns, an’ prayin’ an’ preachin’ all at de 
same time. De whites an’ de respectable 
colo’r’d people tried ter keep^^.^ihd'tiitd. ob\ 
order, but it warn’t no manneij ob use, fo’ 


32 The American Duchess 

der is a mighty lot ob bad niggers in 
Charles’on. Po’ Massa George was a long 
time befo’ dey could move him an’ bring 
him up here, an’ he hasn’t been wuf anything 
eber since ; and that is five yars ago, now, 
when Miss Kitty war only ten. De pore 
chile nearly broke her heart cryin’ when dey 
brought back Massa George. I guess de 
Charles’on people ’ull nebber fergit dat fearful 
night, an’ all de nights an’ days dat foller’d 
after it, when dey war ’fraid ter go back into 
de crazy, cracked houses, an’ had ter build 
tents of blankets an’ carpets out in de streets 
fo’ de pore white folks — delicate ladies an’ 
little chil’ren. Fo’ de first few nights dey 
did pretty well, but in de day it war awful 
hot, fo’ de sun roasted ’em po’ things, an’ 
den in de end, ’fore dey could get de houses 
repaired, de rain came, an’ den nat’rally foller’d 
— sickness, dysentery and pneumonia ; an’ dey 
war all sick an’ dyin’, whites an’ color’d. De 
whites suffered wurst, as dey war rich folks an’ 
’customed ter fine livin’ an’ cumfo’ble houses ; 
an’ it war pitiful ter see de pore white ladies 
cookin’ ober de fires dey made in de streets, 
an’ tryin’ ter nurse an’ ten’ de chil’ren, for 
de colo’r’d mammies had all run away an’ 


33 


Wyndham de Montfort 

taken, ter dansin’, and prayin’, an’ cuttin’ up 
wif de debble gen’rally. De white massas took 
turns watchin’ obber de wimin and chil’ren, 
an’ fore de houses ; but it warn’t much use ; 
an’ der was a pow’ful lot ob stealin’ done 
at night by de wicked niggars, dat seemed as 
if dey had sold derselves ter de debble, an’ 
went ’bout doin’ all der mischief dey knew 
how. Oh, sah, I hnembers all ’bout dat earf- 
quake an’ de bringin’ home ob Massa George.” 

Just at this moment Aunt Nan entered, and 
with her a small darkie, helping carry De 
Montfort’s breakfast. She w'as surprised to 
find her patient so well. He declared the 
pain in his shoulder was nothing, and that 
he would be up and about next day ; but at 
this Nan smiled, and told him her brother, 
on his way down to breakfast, would look 
in and bid him welcome. Yesterday he had 
been carried insensible into the house, and, 
though its master had seen him, De Montfort 
had, as yet, not made the acquaintance of 
Kitty’s father. 

Aunt Nan was a born nurse, and de- 
lighted in her task of caring for this 
handsome invalid. She helped him with his 
breakfast. His left arm was, of course, 
0 


34 The American Dtichess 

bandaged, and he laughed as he made clumsy 
efforts to help himself with his remaining 
hand. 

He and Nan soon became warm friendsi 
and she laughed and chattered to him as 
she aided him in feeding himself. She 

told him of her brother whom she adored ; 
and of Kitty whom she had reared ; and 
all about the fears she entertained that 

the child would be sent by her father to 

New York, in accordance with her maternal 
grandmother’s demands, through a mistaken 
idea on her father’s part that it would be 
for Kitty’s future good. 

The unromantic Englishman listened to 
all these stories with interest, wondering, 
meanwhile, when he should again see Kitty. 
The heroism shown by this child of Nature 
and the South was a revelation to him, 

accustomed as he was to the conventional 
restrictions of English society. 

His thoughts wandered away from Nan’s 
babble, and he lay dreamily trying to recall 
every slightest incident of yesterday, with 
Kitty’s anxious face, in fancy, still bending 
above him. He felt again the firm grasp of 
her little hands as she tried to move his 


VVyndhant de Mont fort 35 

head into a more comfortable position, and 
recalled the pretty puzzled look with which 
she replied to a weakly-paid compliment on 
his part with which he sought to show his 
gratitude, English fashion. 

The language of flattery and pretence was 
not a part of Kitty’s healthy Southern bring- 
up-ing. Absolutely unconscious and un- 
affected, she had gone to his assistance as 
she would have done to that of any old 
nigger around her father’s plantation who 
might have happened to be in distress. The 
thought that he was a man, young and 
handsome, had not occurred to her. He was 
a fellow-being in sore straits, and that was 
enough for Kitty. 

As he recalled his clumsily-paid compliment 
his face reddened, he w'ondered why he should 
feel so awkward in the presence of “ this 
young savage ” — as he loftily chose to consider 
her. When in London, or in English country 
houses, the girls would have esteemed them- 
selves only too highly honoured to receive 
a word of praise from him, who, for some 
seasons past, had been considered the best 
parti in England. He remembered how every 
girl in the house would gather round him on 


36 The American Duchess 

liis return with the other men from shooting 
or hunting, and seem to hang upon his 
slightest word ; or pretend to be diverted by 
his most stupid jokes. These latter he knew' 
now to have been dull as his own fogs. 

The bright Southern skies seemed to have 
had pow'er to shed some rays of enlighten- 
ment into his egotistic mental atmosphere, 
and to pierce slightly the hitherto impreg- 
nable citadel of his contented self-esteem. 
From his babyhood, he had been surrounded 
by sycophants and flatterers, and, until now, 
it had never entered into the possibilities 
that he could discover himself to be less 
than perfect. Lying there, almost helpless, 
with old Pete and Aunt Nan tending him, 
he, for the first time in his life, perhaps, 
turned his thoughts inwards. 


CHAPTER IV 


TREACHERY 

“ Put down the passions that make earth hell ! 

Down wdth ambition, avarice, ^pride, 

Jealousy, down ! cut off from the mind 
The bitter springs of anger and fear ; 

Down, too, down at your own fireside, 

With the evil tongue and the evil ear, 

For each is at war with mankind.” 

Alfred Tennyson. 

Wyndham, with his arm still bandaged, was 
being helped by Uncle Pete and Nan to 
descend the stairs, and, for the first time, 
join the family assembled below. He and 
Kitty’s father had already gotten pretty well 
acquainted, and the invalid rather liked this 
unsought guest, whom chance had cast help- 
less upon his hospitality. With true Southern 
warmth Mr Fauntleroy grasped his guest’s 
hand, and congratulated him upon his im- 
proved appearance. Wyndham was introduced 
to Mr Joe Barmore and his wife — young 

37 


38 "The Amej'ican Duchess 

people proud of their first baby, who sat 
crowing upon Lis mother’s lap, and looking a 
ridiculous little picture of his father in minia- 
ture. Then Mr Fauntleroy introduced his 
niece, Bessie Barm ore, very handsome, tall and 
stately — almost too much -so for such a young 
girl. She was only eighteen, but with her 
fully developed figure, looked thrce-and-twenty. 
“Mighty elegant,” she thought to herself, 
regarding him critically with her large round 
grey eyes. He felt the cool regard, and his 
impression of her was, that he had never 
seen so handsome a woman in his life. Then 
he turned his head in a vain search for Kitty. 
She was not in the room. 

“ She might have been here to welcome 
me, at least,” he thought, and bit his lip, 
sulkily letting his eyes rest upon his plate. 
Bessie, opposite, with a jealous pang, noted 
the searching look and the disappointment 
which followed it. “Kitty, of course,” she 
thought, “and, I don’t suppose she will have 
the sense to appreciate him in the least.” 

At this moment the door communicating 
with the kitchen opened, and Kitty, her face 
a little flushed, entered, followed by Pete carry- 
ing a big dish of hot cakes. She came smib 


Treachery 39 

ing in as was her wont, and^ nodding brightly 
to De Montfort, took her seat beside her 
father. Then, without further notice of the 
stranger, she quietly began attending to the 
needs of the invalid. 

“Jove! she is lovely,” thought De Montfort 
as he watched her. “She beats any Yankee 
girl I have yet met. He had fallen into the 
common error of Englishmen, that of calling 
all Americans “Yankees.” “I wonder what 
Malcolm would think of her % ” 

At this moment a slow, heavy step made 
itself heard upon the verandah without. 

“There’s Uncle Tom,” said Bessie. “I 
wonder if he has any letters for me ? ” 

A shadow darkened one of the windows as 
the head and shoulders of a man leaned 
lazily into the room, his arms on the sill without. 

“Any room for me at the table yet ? ” 

“Yes, Uncle Tom; sit here.” 

Kitty sprang up, and gathering her plate 
and other belongings together, carried them 
to a little side table, smiling brightly as she 
did so at the dark face bent upon her from 
the window. 

“But you’re not through yourself, Kitty,” 
Jlis ejres softened £^s lie watchod her. 


40 


The American Duchess 


“ Oh, I’m going to finish with the children, 
Uncle Tom. Come right in,” she added, with 
a little gesture of command. 

The heavy figure began to move itself slowly. 
As he passed from the window towards the 
garden door, Bessie called out, — 

“ Any letters for me. Uncle Tom ? ” 

“You’d better look at them and see,” he 
answered, as he entered the room and walked 
slowly, towards Kitty’s vacated seat. Passing 
Bessie, he stopped and tossed several letters on 
to the table beside her. Bessie’s fingers clutched 
them, and she greedily devoured their addresses 
with her eyes. Looking quickly through them, 
she drew out and set aside one with a little 
look of pleasure upon her usually gloomy, 
handsome face. 

“ Four for Mr de Montfort.” She smilingly 
handed them to Wyndham across the table. 
They had been re-directed from Charleston. 
Mr Fauntleroy had some newspapers and 
one letter. 

“What’s in that letter, dad?” said Kitty, 
coming behind his chair and looking with a 
little anxious regard at the envelope beside his 
plate. She saw it was in the handwriting of 
her grandmother, and trembled to think what 


Treachery 


41 


tlie contents might be. She stood lost in 
thought behind her father, with her arm 
thrown around his shoulder, Uncle Tom 
quietly eating his fried chicken at her other 
side. De Montfort watched her, thinking 
what a delicious study she made. Her deli- 
cate youth and joyous young face in contrast 
with the older and world-worn faces of the 
two men. 

“ Never mind my letter, pet. Go and eat 
your breakfast.” 

Mr Fauntleroy uneasily shifted his position 
a little, covering the letter with his news- 
papets, and quickly glanced at Aunt Nan. 
The face of that good soul reddened, and De 
Montfort wondered why he always found him- 
self thinking of the full moon when he happened 
to look at her. He had a profound respect 
for Nan, and they two had become fast friends 
during his illness. He even fancied that Nan 
had a suspicion of his admiration for Kitty, 
and was not unwilling to encourage him in it. 

Old Pete, too, never tired of singing Kitty’s 
praises, and found himself frequently in the 
possession of odd half-dollars, which jingled 
happily against each other in his unaccustomed 
pockets The old man was shuffling about 


42 


The American Duchess 


the room now, apparently changing the plates. 
He also was anxious to know whether his 
master had heard from New York. His 
curiosity was not gratified as, at this moment, 
Mr Fauntleroy arose, grasped his letter and 
papers nervously as he did so, and, with 
them, went off to his study, closing its door 
firmly behind him. Kitty, unnoticed, fiushed 
as she glanced at kind old Nan. The eyes 
which met hers were soft and pitying, and 
the good creature trembled as she thought 
anew of the possibility of losing her darling. 

Breakfast being over, De Montfort asked Nan’s 
permission to open his correspondence. Bessie, 
long ago, without a word to anyone, had torn 
open her solitary letter, and, with her elbows 
firmly planted upon the table before her, had 
read it through. She smiled a little con- 
temptuously as she came to the words, “I 
suppose you will forget old friends now that 
you have English lords and dukes staying in 
the house.” “He is only a plain Mr,” thought 
Bessie, glancing at Wyndham, “but he might 
be a king from his appearance.” 

Her eyes took on a dreamy softness as she 
watched him. Wyndham felt her frank regard 
but pretended to be unaware of it, keeping his 


Treachery 43 

eyes fixed on Nan at the head of the table. 
Then he turned again to his letters, still ap- 
parently unconscious of Bessie’s gaze. Kitty 
had disappeared. Presently the Englishman, 
relinquishing a letter he had been reading, 
said, — 

“ My friend will be happy to accept Mr 
Fauntleroy’s kind invitation, and will be here 
this evening.” 

He looked straight at Bessie with an amused 
expression. She had been very silent during 
breakfast. He had found it difficult to converse 
with her. For the first time in her life Bessie 
felt ill at ease. She had never been at a loss 
before. Naturally, being so handsome, she was 
greatly admired and her train of “beaux” com- 
prised all the young men around that part of 
the country, and extended itself even to the 
Mississippi Bottom and down to New Orleans. 
In this wide court she had been queen, all her 
courtiers vying with each other in taking her 
“ buggy -riding,” escorting her to ghost and sur- 
prise parties, picnics and “horseback-riding.” 
Bessie had taken this devotion as a matter of 
course, treating her cavaliers more as brothers 
than lovers, and showing preference to none. 
Ambition^ though she \vas unconscious pf it, was 


44 The American Duchess 

the mainspring of her being, and she had accepted 
all this adoration with a half-contemptuous satis- 
faction — it seemed to her to foreshadow future 
infinitely greater triumphs. The idea of quietly 
marrying and settling down in this peaceful 
country life as her mother and grandmothers 
had done before her never seemed a possibility 
to her. Her home duties were entirely dis- 
tasteful to her, and she performed them in 
a half - hearted, perfunctory manner, which 
naturally left much to be desired. 

Now, for the first time, she met a thorough 
man of the world. Instinctively she perceived, 
without being able to define it to herself, that 
there was a wide difference between him and 
the young men she had been _ accustomed to 
dominate. His finished manners and easy bear- 
ing, a certain quiet reserve, where she had 
always been accustomed to frank avowal in 
conversation, made her less at ease in his 
presence. For the first time, with all her 
beauty, she began to understand that some- 
thing was wanting. In a dim manner she 
realised that she was rough almost to rudeness ; 
this only rendered her more awkward and 
defiant. She planted her elbows upon the 
table and watched Kitty with jealous eyes, 


Treachery 45 

wondering what might be the difference be- 
tween them, egotism preventing her from dis- 
cerning that the key-note of Kitty’s perfect 
grace and good-breeding lay in her absolute 
unselfishness, her devotion to the interest of 
others, and in a frank naturalness which won 
all hearts. 

Wyndham’s remark roused Bessie from her 
unpleasant reverie. Perceiving herself to be 
directly addressed, she smiled, blushed slightly, 
and said rather awkwardly, — 

“ Is he ? ” 

Then she, with the aid of her hands against 
the table used as a lever, pushed backwards 
her chair with a discordant sound upon the 
uncarpeted wooden floor, rose, and went towards 
the door opening into the garden beyond. 
She was thinking, “ I wonder if the other 
is like this one. He is mighty difficult to get 
along with.” 

Wyndham, with a little bow to Nan, also 
rose and followed Bessie to the garden door. 

“ Would you like to come and look around ? ” 
said Bessie. “ It isn’t far to w'alk, and there 
are plenty of seats under the trees in the 
yard.” 

Glancing across her shoulder, he saw Kitty 


46 The American Duchess 

talking to old Pete. The latter was leading 
“Cleve” with a halter, and the three were 
going down the yard together. Bessie, her 
head turned towards him, saw his face change, 
and noted the gay ring in his voice as he 
replied formally, — 

“ With pleasure. Miss Barmore.” 

Then she saw Kitty in the distance as they 
turned to go slowly out of the house. “He 
must be in love with her already, little fool,” 
she thought spitefully. Wyndham was too 
much engrossed in watching Kitty to perceive 
the heavy cloud which once more obscured 
Bessie’s beauty. He found it somewhat diffi- 
cult to walk over the uneven ground in his 
weak condition, and with regret perceived 
that Kitty, with her back towards him, was 
every instant going farther away. Seeing that 
in a moment she would turn through a gate 
into a field beyond, he called after her, — 

“ Miss Fauntleroy, will you not permit me 
to make a further acquaintance with that mule 
of yours ? ” 

Bessie’s face flushed, and she bit her lip. 

At the sound of Wyndham’s voice Kitty 
and old Pete turned, and the former said 
laughing,— 


Treachery 47 

" Why, Mr de Montfort, surely you do not 
want to see ‘ Cleve ’ after all the mischief he 
has done you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I do,” answered Wyndham, letting 
his eyes rest delightedly upon her glad, young 
face. “And I mean to ride him, too,” he went 
on resolutely, “as soon as my shoulder will 
permit of it.” 

Kitty looked at him as he said this, and a 
pitying expression came into her eyes as she 
saw how worn he appeared. His face was pale 
and haggard, and his shoulders stooped slightly 
from weakness. She said kindly, — 

“ Wouldn’t you like a seat, Mr de Montfort ? 
Pete, go fetch a chair.” 

“ Mr de Montfort was walking well enough, 
Kitty ; I don’t suppose he will thank you to 
think him so sick,” broke in Bessie, with a little 
toss of her head, and a contemptuous look at 
Kitty. “ You are always wanting to fuss over 
somebody.” 

Kitty, taken aback at this rudeness, looked 
with surprise at her cousin, and Wyndham 
forgot to make any protest as he watched her, 
and thought what an enchanting picture she 
made, with her arm through the halter of the 
wicked black mule, who stood innocently behind 


48 The American DttcJiess 

her, munching a mouthful of grass he had 
managed to crop, unobserved, as old Pete, 
going for the chair, had transferred him to 
Kitty’s keeping. Bessie, seeing Kitty’s eyes 
questioning her, and wishing to break up the 
interview, added, — 

‘ I believe Aunt Nan is hunting you, Kitty, 
you had better go up to the house. Something 
about your grandmother’s letter’, I guess.” 

Poor little Kitty’s face changed at these last 
words, her brows seemed to lose their arch, and 
drew nearer together, and a pained expression 
gathered about her mouth. Her eyes turned 
uneasily towards the windows of her father’s 
study. Casting the halter to Pete, who had 
returned with a chair, she said, — 

“ You get ready, Pete. I must go along up 
to the house first. Do sit down,” she continued 
kindly, turning towards De Montfort with a 
smile, solicitude for his comfort for the 
moment making her forget her own uneasiness. 

Wyndham sank into the seat with a little 
air of relief, first turning it, so that it would 
face the road which Kitty must take to the 
house, and thanking her for her thoughtful 
care of him, in a manner which, to Bessie’s 
jealous hearing, appeared unnecessarily cordial.. 


49 


Treachery 

Kitty answered his speech with a little anxious 
smile, and settling her pretty sun-bonnet over 
her face, flew off across the yard. 

“ I wonder how long he intends to sit there 
staring after her,” thought Bessie, as she stood 
moodily beside him, while he watched the 
childish figure flying, her pink draperies 
fluttering, and long golden hair fallen about 
her, carrying with it the sun-bonnet, which, as 
usual, would not stay upon her head. He con- 
tinued to sit for some moments longer, his eyes 
fixed upon the open door by which she had 
disappeared into the house ; then recollecting 
himself, turned with an apology to Bessie, and 
feebly rising from his chair, said, — 

“ I fear I am tiring you. Miss Barmore, with 
my invalid ways. You must kindly pardon me. 
Suppose we go over there, and sit in the shade.’ 
He pointed with his stick to a bench beneath 
the trees, and then walked slowly towards it 
with her. She was thinking, — 

“ He must be very rich. I daresay he is even 
richer than the duke. I wish it wasn’t Kitty 
he is after, but I’ll get him from her yet.” Her 
eyes shone strangely as this thought flashed by 
her. Feeling Wyndham’s eyes upon her she 
relaxed her brows and smiled. 


50 


The American Duchess 


“ Kitty is only a mere child,” she said ; “ 1 
always feel sorry that she is engaged to be 
married.” She noted his change of expression, 
which he could not conceal from her. Not 
wishing to go into explanations, she went on 
quickly, “ It is a sore subject in the family; 
we never mention it, but she seems determined 
when she is of age to go against everyone’s 
advice and marry him.” 

“ Whom ? ” 

De Montfort’s throat felt dry as he spoke the 
word. 

At this moment a sound of footsteps running 
made both quickly turn their heads. 

“Miss Bessie, Jake’s hyar, and Miss ’Liza 
hab sent ober fo’ dem pickles yo’ done promis’ 
her when yo’ las’ was ober dere. Miss Nan’s 
done bin huntin’ all ober the place fo’ dem, 
and done sent me ter as’ yo.’ ’Cuse me, 
sah.” 

Here Pete made a grandiose bow to Wyndham 
and then stood in an attitude of expectation, 
his great hands pendant on either side of 
him, and his big round eyes fixed upon Bessie. 
She hesitated a moment, and then remember- 
ing the directness of De Montfort’s last question, 
decided to return with Pete to the house. 


7 'reachery 5 1 

De Montfort, left alone, thought angrily of 
what he had just heard. “ Kitty engaged.” 
“That child.” “And who was the fellow?” 
Already, under her gentle exterior, he could 
perceive the force of character she possessed. 

Pete had told him that the Fauntleroys were 
in some manner connected with the Lee family. 
Kitty’s grandfather had impoverished himself 
in the Southern cause, and had been the near 
friend, and one of the bravest generals of the 
“ Idol of the South.” Old Pete himself had 
wanted to go with him when the war broke 
out, but, instead, his master had ordered him 
to remain and take care of his women-folk, 
knowing the faithful stuff of which Pete’s 
heart was made. Then the brave Southern 
had gone forth, accompanied by his three sons, 
very young men at that time, leaving his wife 
and three little girls behind him. Old Pete, 
with tears streaming down his cheeks, had to 
commence his duties of guardian and protector 
by receiving in his arms' the inanimate form 
of his beloved mistress, who had fainted as 
her brave husband strained her for the last 
time to his breast, leaning down from his saddle. 

It was a pitiful group he gazed upon as 
he said good-bye for the last time to his 


52 The American Duchess 

home. In the foreground the poor wife, her 
beautiful face changed by the watching and 
anxiety of many weary weeks of terrible 
suspense, all wet with tears fallen back upon 
the breast of good old Pete, and now calmly 
unconscious as if death had mercifully closed 
her eyes to the greater disasters which were 
to follow ; her little children clinging about 
her skirts, crying in sympathy, child-like, at 
a scene they were unable to understand ; and 
in the background grouped about upon the 
wide porch and the steps ascending to it, the 
weeping slaves surrounding the invalid chair of 
his aged mother, beside whom stood, trembl- 
ing, and endeavouring to console her, for the 
loss of their son, his old father, fragile in health 
but strong in heart, choking the sobs in his 
voice, and dashing away with the back of his 
thin sensitive hand the tears which would 
come, forced down his cheeks by the sight of 
his family’s misery, and the painful sense of 
his own age and feebleness, which prevented 
him from going out at the head of the males 
of his house, to lead them on to the defence 
of his country, and the maintainance of what, 
to him, were her just rights in a war of unjust 
aggression. 


Treachery 53 

De Montfort, seated beneath the old trees 
in the yard, and looking towards that same 
porch, where, at this moment, old Pete passed, 
thought of Kitty and Kitty’s character, and 
recalled these scenes which the good old slave 
had recounted to him many a time in the 
closing darkness of a long summer’s evening 
to while away his wearing hours of pain. As 
he thought his heart became more bitter. 

A noble history, a noble mate, descendant 
of a noble line of ancestors, come with un- 
tarnished name from the old world — his own 
world — in days now old. Kitty, “his Kitty;” 
he had come to think her his wife when he 
should choose to make her so, as he had 
assured himself with the calm arrogance of 
a man for whom the world had always given 
its best, and who had yet to meet with his 
first denial. His Kitty promised to another, 
and, worse still, determined with all the 
strength of her warrior blood to keep her 
^^lith with this unknown and now detested 
rival. Who was he ? What must he be to 
have merited the love and devotion of her, 
for whom he himself now felt spurred by 
the unexpected obstacle in his path, that 
nothing would be too difficult of eonc|uest, 


54 


The American Duchess 


The wind moved the leaves with a delicious 
whispering sound above his head, and should 
have soothed him with their lullaby. The 
sun had changed his position in the heavens, 
and great, soft clouds now and again obscured 
the brightness of his smiles as they appeared 
over the tops of the mountains to his right, 
and sailed slowly away to the horizon where 
“Old Pisgah” raised his magnificent head, 
monarch amongst all the spreading ranges of 
lesser giants which surrounded him. 

De Montfort sat on, unseeing. Bitter 
thoughts for the first time assailed him, and 
his face wore a stern expression. 

The luncheon bell was rung by a tattered 
nigger, who was old Pete’s lieutenant about 
the house, and who suddenly appeared on 
the porch, and seemed to delight in the 
hideous din he made. 

The bell roused Wyndham from his un- 
pleasant thoughts ; he raised his head and saw 
good old Pete, in his neat butler’s suit of 
frayed black, coming to take him back to 
tbe liouse, 


CHAPTER V 


PERIL 

‘‘ The moon is up in splendour, 

And golden stars attend her ; 

The heavens are calm and bright ; 

Trees cast a deepening shadow, 

And slowly off the meadow 
A mist is rising silver-white/’ 

Matthias Claudius. 

Wyndham had requested to be allowed to 
accompany Pete to the depot to meet the 
train by which his friend was to arrive. He 
had not seen Kitty since his discovery of 
the morning, having pleaded fatigue and 
gone to his room rather than join the family 
at luncheon, which was, 'in reality, the family 
dinner. 

Aunt Nan had come to his room as usual 
to superintend the comfort of her patient. 
Looking at her honest round face, he felt 
inclined to ask her all about Kitty’s engage- 
ment, then, with the morbid self-consciousness 
Rnd cold reserve habitual to ap Englishman, 
55 


56 The American Duchess 

he finally cleterniined to say nothing. Now, 
sitting beside old Pete, he drove slowly to 
the depot to meet his friend. 

The sleepy little depot lay low beside the 
churning waters of the red French Broad. 
The sun was setting, and sent his rays slant- 
wise through the trees. There had been a 
sudden mountain summer thunder-shower ; it 
had refreshed the earth, and left every separate 
leaf and blade of grass gleaming and glitter- 
ing as with a myriad diamonds, bathed in 
the golden light. The air was clear and very 
fresh, and filled with a thousand odours of 
the wetted trees and plants. The leaves 
s emed touched by a magic wand, and took 
on delicate tints not before observable, and 
the drenched golden-rods lifted their tall 
heads and once more backgrounded themselves 
with exquisite effect against the masses of 
deep red sumach. 

Boundless America painfully seeking amongst 
the artificial, because cultivated, flowers of a 
worn-out civilisation, for a national floral 
emblem, is a sight to be regretted, when 
everywhere the golden-rod waves in her 
breezes, north, south, east and west. Growing 
wild and free in every dell, on ever^ 


Peril 


57 


mountain side, Nature herself seems to have 
chosen it as the fitting emblem of an un- 
trammelled and glorious people. 

Old Pete drove slowly, and Wyi^dham had 
time to observe the beauty of the country 
through which they were passing. He was 
a lover of scenery, and these magnificent 
mountains sitting about the feet of greater 
Pisgah appeared to him giant brothers holding 
everlasting conclave. Gazing at them, he 
imagined the death-like peace and solitude 
of their peaks. This unspeakable peace which 
had endured undisturbed since the beginning, 
“ before men were,” and which would endure 
till the end, till long after the nations of the 
earth, struggling at their feet in unending 
pain and misery, should have passed away 
and become as dreams. The sun sunk slowly 
behind the mountains, leaving a trail of gold 
and crimson to mark his path. Softly this 
faded away, the breeze died, and delicious 
stillness reigned; evening had come, peace- 
ful harbinger of night. 

The old buggy creaked onwards, its groan- 
ings, and the steady tread of the aged white 
horse were the only sounds which disturbed the 
silence, He Mpntfort watched the stavs come 


58 The American Duchess 

out one by one ; it was growing dark and 
the buggy jolted more than before, as Pete 
was no longer able to see the ruts in the 
narrow track, called by courtesy a road. 
Far down in the distance they could discern 
the depot lights, and now and again the bell 
of a freight engine made itself heard. It was 
a melancholy sound, a}id did not tend to cheer 
AVyndham’s spirit. He began to wish he had 
not come. The drive was a long one, and the 
buggy and roads hardly suited to his weak 
condition. Old Pete tried once or twice to 
enter into conversation, but De Montfort’s 
mood was taciturn, and he found little en- 
couragement to continue, and relapsed into 
silence. 

“Hullo, old fellow!” 

“Why, how are you, old boy?” 

The two friends met on the rough side track 
of the depot. Malcolm Fairleigh looked at his 
friend as they stood beneath the lamp outside 
the door of the little office. 

“ You look weak, AVyndham ; take my arm.” 
The speaker was hardly more than a boy, and 
his fair skin made him appear even younger 
than he really was. “Yo^ ippst have had a 


Peril 


59 


pretty bad accident,” he added, with solicitude, 
as Wyndham leant heavily upon him, and they 
turned their steps towards the buggy. 

“ Yes, I suppose it was,” said De Montfort, 
quietly; “had that mule kicked a little more 
directly I daresay it would have been all up 
with my head, and me, too.” 

“Why didn’t you lot me know sooner? 
I would gladly havm changed my plans and 
come over and looked after you.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t want to spoil your sport, and 
the people up there wmre very kind. Charm- 
ing people, in fact,” he added, upon reflec- 
tion. 

By this time they had reached the buggy, 
and old Pete got down to assist Wyndham to 
enter it. The long homeward journey com- 
menced, and the friends discussed family and 
other events which had transpired since their 
parting, Fairleigh to go to White Sulpher 
Springs, and Wyndham to make his memor- 
able walking tour, which, for him, had ended 
so disastrously. 

The buggy had entered the yard, and the 
tired old white horse was toiling steadily up 
one side of the sweeping carriage drive. Lights 


6o 


The American Dtichess 


could be seen in the lower rooms, and the 
murmur of voices reached the occupants of the 
buggy from the porch. 

Wyndham turned towards his friend under 
the clear starlight, and whispered anxiously, — 
“You will keep my secret, old boy ? I don’t 
suppose it — Well, prejudices must be re- 

spected, you understand.” 

He could not see the slight frown which 
drew Malcolm’s brows together as he gave the 
required promise, and hastily sprang to the 
ground. 


An hour later they were all seated at supper. 
Bessie had placed Malcolm at her side, and 
talked determinedly to him. He, considering 
her very handsome, was nothing loath to be 
amused. Wyndham, sitting oppo.site, wondered 
what they found to laugh over, and watched the 
tender manner in which Kitty anticipated the 
needs of her father. A high-hung lamp shed 
its rays over the young girl’s head, and brought 
out the warm tints in her glorious hair. Once, 
feeling his eyes upon her, she looked up with a 
child-like smile, saying, — 

“I hope you are not too tired, Mr de Mont- 
fort, after your long driye ? ” 


Peril 


6i 


She waited for his response with her sweet 
eyes fixed upon his face. Wyndham felt the 
blood throb in his temples under her frank 
regard. 

“You are very kind, Miss Fauntleroy. I 
suppose I cannot expect to feel like myself just 
at present. It is a new sensation for me not to 
be able to stiind a two hours’ drive,” he added, 
with slight bitterness. 

Kitty’s sympathetic ear noted the tone, and 
her eyes rested still upon his face with a pitying 
look. 

“ You will very soon be strong again,” she said. 
Then she blushed, for she found Malcolm’s eyes 
fixed upon her. He was thinking, “ Wynd- 
ham’s right, she is the most beautiful creature 
I have ever seen.” 

“What did you do with that beast to-day?” 
Wyndham hastened to ask, fearing to lose her 
attention. “ You surely did not ride him ? ” 

He had seen her blush and discerned its cause, 
and for the first time in his life felt an insensate 
desire to knock Malcolm down. 

“ Why, of course I rode, him,” laughed the 
girl. “ I went over with old Jake to see grand- 
ma, and then I came back home alone.” 

Wyndham thought of the sheltered lives of 


62 


The American Dtichess 


liis sisters, and shuddered at the idea of little 
Kitty alone on that long lonely ride. Looking 
across at Mr Fauntleroy, he asked him if he 
did not think it dangerous for her thus to ride 
by herself. His host replied with a smile, and 
did not seem to think there was any reason for 
fear. 

“ Kitty has always gone about alone, every- 
body knows her, and, I may say, loves her 
too,” her father went on, fondly stroking the 
bent head beside him. 

Kitty was blushing again, for this con- 
versation had drawn all the eyes around the 
table upon her. Wyndham wished he had not 
spoken, and Fairleigh watched the blood com- 
ing and going in the lovely young face, with 
admiration. Bessie, seeing this, thought, “ I 
suppose he’s going to make a fool of himself, 
next,” and relapsed into a sulky silence. 

Wyndham, regretting the discomfort his 
solicitude for her had caused Kitty, turned 
the conversation into another channel by ask- 
ing Mr Fauntleroy if there were any hunting 
in the mountains round. This brought up 
many stories of bears, wild-cat, and other 
smaller game, and Kitty was permitted to 
remain quietly silent at her father’s side. 


Peril 


63 

Presently there was a general pause, and 
Bessie, to break it, turned to Fairleigh and 
said, — 

“ I suppose you saw the duke when you were 
in Charleston ? ” 

Everyone looked towards them. Wyndham 
cast a sharp glance at his friend, and the latter 
answered, rather awkwardly, — 

“ Everyone must have seen him who happened 
to be there when he was.” 

“ But did you know him ? ” persisted Bessie. 

“ Yes ; we were at Eton together.” 

“ Then you must really know him,” exclaimed 
Bessie, now intensely interested. “ Oh, do tell 
me about him ? What is he like % Is he 
young and good-looking ? ” 

Before Malcolm could reply, Mr Joe Barmore 
broke in with a laugh, and said, — 

“ I guess you’d like to be a duchess yourself, 
Bess. Why didn’t you go down to Charleston 
and take your chance of him along with the rest 
of the girls ? ” 

“ Oh bother ! Uncle Joe, you’re always saying 
something hateful.” 

Bessie had coloured deeply with anger, and 
darted a glance of contempt at Joe as he went 
on, — 


64 


The American Duchess 


“ I must say I can’t see the difference between 
a duke and anyone else ; I guess I am as good 
as this duke any day.” 

“Except that you haven’t his millions,” inter- 
rupted Bessie, with a slight sneer. Then Mrs 
Joe looked at her husband affectionately and 
then hugged tlie baby closer to her breast. 

Wyndham had sat very still during this con- 
versation. He began to perceive that even a 
simple American country girl sometimes has her 
ideas as to rank and wealth. He turned his 
eyes quietly upon Kitty, longing to know her 
thoughts at this juncture. She sat with her 
hand in that of her father, and gazed steadfastly 
at Bessie. At this moment her father said 
teasingly, — 

“Kitty here will give us a lecture upon 
dukes. She once heard terrible tales of one 
from an old Irish woman who had been forced 
to emigrate on account of her master, the 
duke, insisting upon collecting his rents at 
rare intervals, which did not meet the old 
lady’s approval at all. Kitty, would you 
marry a duke if he asked you 1 ” 

The pretty skin had been glowing and paling 
all through her father’s banter. She was think- 
ing less of the old woman’s stories than of all 


Peril 


65 

slie feared at tlie hands of her grandmother, 
whose pet idea it was to bring her out in New 
York society, upon the occasion of this same 
duke’s appearance there next winter after his 
tour in the West. Unused to hating anyone, 
she had at last come to think of this man with 
absolute detestation. AVyndham watched her 
face grow set and resolute, when, upon her 
father’s insistance, she was forced to make some 
reply. 

“ Father, don’t make, me talk of that man, you 
know how I hate him,” 

Her father shrank a little before the look in 
her now serious eyes ; he felt guilty for the first 
time in his life of siding with others against 
her, and recalled the letter he had written in 
reply to that of her grandmother that morn- 
ing. In it he had at last promised to let 
Kitty go to New York, but only for the one 
winter. He had not yet found courage to tell 
her of what he had done, and knowing how 
bitterly set against the scheme she was, he 
wondered if he could ever persuade her to 
consent. Even good old Nan did not know 
yet. He felt his sister suspected his defec- 
tion to the enemy that day, for the excellent 
creature had gone about all the afternoon with 


E 


66 


The American Duchess 


an unaccustomed air of melancholy, and he 
had caught her more than once furtively wip- 
ing her eyes, behind the kitchen door, upon 
the corner of her apron. Seeing Kitty’s dis- 
tress, she now came to her rescue by rising 
and saying to her, — 

“ Come, Kitty, Aunt Judy’s sick, and if 
we don’t set that dough, I guess there won’t 
be any hot cake to-morrow morning.” 

Kitty jumped up with an air of relief. As 
they passed into the kitchen she wound her 
arms about Nan’s comfortable waist, and, 
almost crying, said, — 

“ Oh, Nan, what has gotten hold of dad ? 
I believe he’s bewitched, and I know he has 
promised to send me, because I saw him come 
out and give Pete a letter, just before Pete 
drove off to the depot. I know he’s done 
it,” the tears half - choked her. “ Oh, Nan, 
Nan, what shall I ever do in New York, 
away from you ! ” 

They were both crying now. The girl 
thrown upon the elder woman’s breast, and 
sobbing violently ; Nan weeping more quietly. 
To both it w'as a new experience in their 
hitherto untroubled lives. 

Beside the kitchen table they remained, 


Peril 


67 


unaware that the strong light of the paraffin 
oil lamp made them visible from the porch. 
Wyndhani standing there, was a pained 
spectator of the scene. He longed to be able 
to comfort Kitty, and cursed his impotence 
to do so. To him in these few short weeks 
she had become all and all ; but his good 
sense told him that he, for her, was no 
more than any of the others whose lives 
revolved around her. She was still a child. 
Ideas of love and marriage had never even 
intruded themselves upon her innocent mind. 
He saw her now, weeping on Nan’s expansive 
breast, as a child might who was told she 
must leave the freedom of her nursery for 
the sterner duties of school life. He stood 
thus absorbed in the picture before him, 
when Bessie, moving quietly, came and placed 
herself at his side. Immediately she grasped 
the whole situation, and lost no time in turn- 
ing it to her own account. 

“ I Tvonder Nan encourages Kitty in her 
nonsense about that low man,” she said, with 
a sneer. 

Wyndham started, turned and walked some 
steps back towards the door. He realised 
that Bessie was, for some reason, unsym- 


68 


The At)ierica7i Duchess 


pathetic towards poor little Kitty, and it dis- 
tressed him to think that she should have 
witnessed this scene. At the same time her 
words stung him again into jealous torture. 
He had forgotten. Kitty’s innocent presence 
had seemed so utterly child-like as to have 
power to obliterate all the painful thoughts, 
which, since the morning, had been torment- 
ing him. Now they returned with redoubled 
force. “ What if it were truth ? Could it 
be, that, instead ojf the girlish creature she 
appeared, she was really a wilful, disobedient 
daughter, set upon defying her father, and 
determined to marry this man at all costs 
— ‘ that low man.’ ” The shock and revulsion 
which Bessie’s words caused him made him 
for a moment forget her presence there beside 
him. She, perceiving with triumph the effect 
her words had taken upon him, was about 
to follow up her advantage, when Malcolm 
mounted the steps from the yard where he 
had been smoking and said lazily, — 

“ Why, I have been looking for you, Wynd- 
ham. Excuse me. Miss Barmore, I didn’t see 
you there in the dark,” he added, as he per- 
ceived Bessie standing within the shadow. He, 
too, had seen Kitty weeping on Nan’s breast, 


Peril 


69 


and wondered what it all noeant. By this 
time the rest of the family had left the 
supper-room. Old Pete made his appearance 
in the kitchen, and Kitty ran off to her room 
followed by Nan. 

“I am afraid, Nan, we must let Kitty go 
for at least one winter.” Mr Fauntleroy spoke 
in an apologetic tone, and looked up depre- 
catingly into the questioning eyes of good Nan, 
who had come into his study to ascertain the 
worst next morning. 

“ It will break the child’s heart, brother 
George, and then you will only have yourself 
to thank,” Nan spoke in solemn tones. “ I wish 
it had only been Bessie,” she went on ; “ she 
would have enjoyed it.” She had little affec- 
tion for her other niece. 

“ Well, sister Nan, I have finally made up my 
mind that it is for Kitty’s best advantage, and 
bitterly as it will distress me to let her go, I 
mean to do so next October. You had better 
get the dear child what clothes she will need 
and set about making preparations right 
away.” 

Brother George spoke with authority, and 
when be did so, which was seldom, as he was 


70 


The American Duchess 


a very easy-going man, Nan knew it was use- 
less to dispute liis will. Without another word 
she turned and sadly left the study. Kitty 
did not cry when she heard the news from 
Nan, though her heart ached sadly for her 
father. She dreaded leaving him alone, for she 
knew no one could take her place at his side. 
She appreciated the sacrifice he was making for 
her supposed good. She considered he was 
mistaken, but having used all her arguments 
in vain before his resolution was taken, now 
that she found it was final she determined to 
bear her own trouble bravely, in order to 
comfort him in what she knew must be a 
bitter trial to himself. Except for a day or 
so, when he went to Charleston before his 
accident, they had never been parted since 
they had carried him back disabled to his 
house ; here, in the mountains, he had remained, 
confined to his own grounds, an invalid, but 
always uncomplaining and cheerful. 

Kitty found the prospect of leaving him a 
very bitter one. She and Nan sat for some 
time silent in the sun outside the kitchen door, 
and the breakfast china remained untouched 
upon the bench where it was always washed. 
The steaming watet, prepared for the purpose, 


Peril 7 1 

grew tepid, and still poor Nan sat and wrung 
her hands. 

“ If your grandma would only let me go too, 
Kitty,” she moaned at last. 

“No, dear Aunt Nan, that would never do. 
You know I should die if I did not know that 
you were here to take care of poor dad.” Her 
soft eyes grew humid as she thought of him 
alone without his constant companion, herself. 
She knew Nan was the best of creatures, but 
she was well aware that even Nan could not 
fill her own vacant place at her father’s 
side. 

“ Lor’ ! Miss Nan, what’s dar matter ? Yo’ 
bin done sittin’ there an hour, and all der 
water’s cole. An’ Miss Kitty too ! Mighty ! 
but—” 

“Never you mind, Pete, go and get some 
more water.” 

Kitty roused herself, tossed back the heavy 
golden masses of her hair, and rising, went 
with a weary air towards the bench where 
the china stood piled up. Usually Aunt Nan 
performed this duty, but now she sat listless, 
unable to rouse herself from her despondency 
at the loss of her pet, and on Pete’s making 
his appearance, a few minutes later with the 


72 


The American Duchess 


hot water, she sat on, letting Kitty busy 
herself with the china, unaided. 

A week had passed. Wyndham found him-' 
self recovering his former health, and Malcolm 
Fairleigh, with his youthful face and pleasant 
ways, had begun to endear himself to all. 
Even in this short time he had made the 
acquaintance of most of the family friends 
and neighbours, and he and Bessie were 
much throwm together. They were always 
partners at croquet, which is a favourite 
pastime in the South, and rode side by side 
for many a long mile together, when she 
took him to make the acquaintance of far-off 
neighbours. Malcolm would have preferred 
Kitty as his constant companion, but Bessie 
arranged otherwise, and it came to be re- 
gardjed as a matter of course that she and 
Malcolm should be partners at all friendly 
gatherings. Uncle Tom began to chaff her 
about the young Englishman in his slow, 
good-natured way. One morning he came_ 
into the dairy, before breakfast, and found 
Bessie setting the cream ; he handed her a 
letter which he had brought over from the 
town, 


Peril 


73 


“I guess that’s from Willie Bell, isn’t it, 
Bess ? What are you going to do about him 
now you have the young Englishman come 
courting you ? ” 

“Wait till he does come courting me, 
Uncle Tom,” replied the girl, saucily. “ I 
don’t half-believe he knows how. I gave 
him a chance to sit out with me on the 
porch last night and he didn’t seem to 

understand, and when the others said good- 
night, he rose and did the same, and went off 
to smoke his last cigar with Mr de Mont- 
fort.” 

Uncle Tom laughed heartily at this, and, 
on the whole, considered the Englishman 
wanting in spirit, The truth was that 
Malcolm was entirely unused to Southern 
manners. The idea of one of the young 
ladies sitting alone on the porch with him 
after the family had retired would have 

appeared to him most extraordinary and im- 
possible, as, indeed, it must to every think- 
ing person. He had, therefore, yet to be 

initiated. 

Bessie was in high spirits. A straw ride was 
in prospect that evening, the moon being 

full, 9.nd she, together with all the other 


74 The American Duchess 

young people of the neighbourhood, was 
elated, at the promise of a lovely night given 
by the unclouded brightness of a glorious 
summer’s morning. 

“Uncle Tom, take your finger out of that 
cream,” she cried joyously. ” You get out 
of here, now, I want to shut the door.” 

She had forgotten the letter which he had 
brought her, leaving it beside the bowl of 
new set milk. Uncle Tom overturned the 
three-legged milking-stool upon which he had 
seated himself in his effort to obey her, and, 
as he turned to pick it up, he perceived the 
letter. 

“ What Bess ! you — you don’t even care 
to read poor Will’s letter ? ” he said, inter- 
rogatively as he took the letter in his hand 
and followed her to the door with it. 

“Oh bother! give it me, Uncle Tom.” He 
looked at her in surprise, as he handed 
it to her. Will and he had been at school 
together, and were close friends still ; the 
younger man making his way in Texas was 
looked upon with great admiration by poor 
old Tom, whose slower wit had left him con- 
tented to remain buried amongst the moun- 
tains, pursuing the quiet, uneventful routine 


Peril 


75 

of a country lawyer’s life. Now he looked 
almost sadly at Bessie as he said, — 

‘I’m sorry to see your forgetting poor AVill, 
Bessie. You used to think if yon could get 
grandmother to let you have five hundred 
dollars to set up store, here in the town, you 
two would be married and be as happy as 
the day was long. He must be a right good 
business man to have got the position he has 
in Texas. A flash of enthusiasm momentarily 
illumined Uncle Tom’s handsome brown eyes, 
so deep set in his dark regular face as to 
appear almost cavernous. He heaved a little 
sigh of perplexity as he saw Bessie’s pout 
and frown at the memories his words recalled. 
Passing his hand through his thick black hair 
he went on, rather timidly, “ I don’t half 
believe that Englishman is in earnest, Bessie ; 
to my mind, if he is in love with anybody it’s 
with Kitty, there.” He nodded his head in the 
direction of the house. They were standing 
outside the buildings in the rear which had 
once been the slave quarters, now used for 
various purposes as offices. Bessie’s face 
clouded even deeper, and she rattled her keys 
fiercely as she closed the milk-room door. 

“ 1 tliQught the other one was in love with 


76 


The American Duchess 


lier,” she exclaimed roughly, turning round 
on Uncle Tom. 

“I guess he may be, but that doesn’t prevent 
this one doing the same thing.” 

Uncle Tom’s unexpected logic surprised him- 
self almost as keenly as it astonished Bessie. 
She had never perceived this possibility before. 
She had taken it for granted that, if De Mont- 
fort admired Kitty more than herself, Malcolm, 
at least, would be left for her. She felt humili- 
ated — she who, until now, had been queen. 
And for Kitty ! What was there in that 
child that both these men should thus admire 
her ? She failed to find an answer to this 
question, and ended by hating Kitty the 
more. 

Uncle Tom, watching her, was puzzled. She 
had always been a favourite of his, and he 
had looked upon it as settled that she would 
marry Will Bell sometime in the indefinite 
future. Little Kitty he considered a ehild. 
Walking by Bessie’s side towards the house, 
from which the tones of the breakfast bell 
reached them, he tried to think out in his 
slow way what it all might mean. 

“ You haven’t even yet opened that letter, 
Bessie,” He approached the subject gingerly. 


Peril 


77 

“ I wonder if Bell is coming up here this 
summer ? ” 

His words suggested another train of thought 
to Bessie’s perturbed mind. Arresting her 
steps immediately, she hastily tore open the 
letter. Glancing quickly through it, she 
said, — 

“ He will be up some time this month.” 

Then, not waiting to tell Tom more, she 
turned and went quickly into the house. 

Breakfast was over, and De Montfort watched 
Kitty bring the children and seat them at 
their meals, attending to their wants herself. 
He remained, half in and half out of the 
window, chatting to her and the little ones. 
These latter, Joe Barmore’s wife’s nieces and 
nephews sent up for the summer from the 
Mississippi Bottom, stood somewhat in awe 
of the grave Englishman ; Malcolm was their 
favourite of the two. 

Kitty had, as aide-de-camp, the sturdy 
nigger child. This hitter, no bigger herself 
than the eldest of the children, gravely ap- 
portioned out to the clamorous group what 
of broken victuals there might be remaining 
from the repast of the seniors. 


78 


The American Duchess 


“Oh, Kitty ! say Kitty !” Here commenced 
a tremendous thrashing of the table with a 
knife and fork, “Kitty!” Kitty’s attention 
was attracted to his direction by the din, 
and she turned her head, throwing back her 
curls with a characteristic gesture, and display- 
ing the delicate nape of her white neck. De 
Montfort’s face flushed as he saw its beautiful 
lines revealed. “Kitty, I say! Why is it that 
there’s never anything but drumsticks left for 
us ? Drums and old bits of skins. I b’lieve 
you eat it all Lu-lu, before we can get in.” 

Here the speaker flashed a glance of animosity 
at the coloured child, who, at this moment, 
gravely took up a “ drum ” with her fingers, 
and, unmoved by the unfriendliness of his tones, 
put it upon his plate. 

“ You shouldn’t find fault, Johnnie.” 

This came in Kitty’s sweet tones. She had 
just set the baby up in a high chair. De 
Montfort had grown silent in the midst of the 
clamour, content to watch the graceful figure 
of the young girl as she moved around the 
table. The scene suggested to his mind another 
possible picture, far off in the future ; his 
thoughts flew to it hungrily ; he did not 
flatter himself, but wondered humbly whether 


Peril 


79 


such happiness could ever possibly be in store 
for him. He knew that, thus far, he had not 
made the faintest impression upon Kitty’s 
affections. She regarded him simply as her 
father’s guest. She even seemed more- in 
sympathy with Malcolm ; this tormented him, 
for he was aware of his friend’s warmly ex- 
pressed admiration for her. “They are both 
so young,” he thought, “perhaps that is the 
secret.” 

Perhaps it was. 

That day at dinner, Tom, who had as usual 
been over to the town, announced that two 
Italians, engaged in the erection of the gigantic 
new hotel on the hill beyond it, had had a 
quarrel and almost knifed each other to death. 
Aunt Nan shivered as Tom told the details. 
Mr Fauntleroy spoke with regret of the changes 
made by speculators in these quiet country parts, 
which some of the wealth of New York was 
being used to turn into a health resort. The 
improvements would, later probably, make him 
a rich man, by causing his property to augment 
in value. Nevertheless he was sorry to see the 
face of the country changed, new habits and 
manners imported, and new and luxurious needs 
created. He Montfort, who had been all over 


8o The American Duchess 

the world, and much in Italy, regretted the 
necessity for the importation of Italian labour, 
as introducing an element of lawlessness in this 
hitherto peaceful community. He begged Kitty 
to promise him she would not ride again alone 
to her grandmother’s. 

“ I am always at your disposition and only 
too delighted to accompany you, if you will 
only permit me to do so. Miss Kitty.” He 
had fallen into the habit of addressing her 
thus, by her Christian instead of her surname, 
after the manner of Pete and the other servants. 
It seemed to him to bring her nearer to him. 
All the young people here, quickly upon mak- 
ing acquaintance, called one another simply by 
their first names — formality and artificiality were 
unknown amongst them, 

Kitty looked up smiling, meeting the intense 
regard of his grey eyes with innocent frankness. 

“ You know grandmother’s is out in the other 
direction. I am not afraid. Those people are 
fond of stealing things, and they would know I 
had nothing even if they did see me.” 

“Yes, but — ” 

De Montfort did not continue, but he deter- 
mined to enter into an understanding with 
Pete, later, on the subject. 


Peril 8 1 

Presently Uncle Tom, laying clown his knife 
and fork, said, — 

“ I had a pretty hard time getting that other 
span from Jim Walters.” He said ‘ they’d be too 
tired after the ploughing.’ However, I took him 
out and gave him a drink, and he promised to 
let me have them if we didn’t work them too 
hard. He couldn’t let me have the two mules, 
because ‘ Topsy’s ’ sick, but I got his old black 
horse to come along instead of her, and now 
that makes six we shall have, and the big 
waggon from Tom Williams. I told Pete to 
see that there’s heaps of straw laid down in 
it. The waggon will be along about six o’clock 
with Jones’s two beasts. I think maybe he’d 
like it better if we let his man drive us,” he 
added, as an afterthought. 

“Better, perhaps,” said Mr Fauntleroy, 
quietly. 

“ I am most anxious to become initiated into 
the mysteries of a ‘ straw-ride ’ Miss Barmore,” 
said Malcolm, gaily. “I should think it must 
be great fun. I shall write to my people in 
England and tell them about it. I wish my 
little sister Maud were here.” He glanced over 
at Kitty as he said this, and saw that slie was 
apparently listening with interest. “She is 
F 


82 


The American Duchess 


hardly grown up yet, Miss Fauntleroy, and 
I think you and she would be great friends.” 

“ Yes, Kitty is nothing but a baby,” came 
spitefully from Bessie. Uncle Tom’s words of 
the morning recurring to her mind. She 
thought she beheld a special meaning in 
Malcolm’s blue eyes as they remained centred 
upon Kitty. 

“ I think you needn’t pretend to be so 
innocent. If I were you I should feel too 
moan if I encouraged two men at once to 
come courting me ; taking them away from 
other people, too, when you can’t marry them 
both, either.” 

“ Bessie ! ” cried Kitty, “ what do you mean ? ” 

She stood with her eyes wide open, gazing in 
pained surprise at her cousin, Bessie had con- 
fronted her, after dinner was over, upstairs, near 
her bedroom door, in a little passage which led 
past their rooms. 

“ What do I mean ? You know very well 
what I mean ! I suppose it pleases you to have 
two men mad about you at once. Perhaps you 
will find yourself left after all, though, with all 
your schemes ! ” 

“Let me pass, Bessie,” said Kitty with 


Peril 


83 

dignity. She felt the hot tears gathering to 
her eyes, and did not wish the other to see 
them. “ Let me past ! ” 

Bessie, instead of doing so, continued to up- 
braid her, placing herself full in her path. 

“Everybody is talking about the way you are 
going on,” she said coarsely ; “ Uncle Tom spoke 
of it this morning, and — ” 

“ Uncle Tom ! ” Poor Kitty’s pained tones 
told Bessie how well she had aimed. 

“Yes, Uncle Tom, and when he sees any- 
thing it must be plain indeed. He told me 
he was afraid these two rich Englishmen were 
just amusing themselves with you ” — Kitty 
shivered — “ making game of you to pass the 
time,” she went on brutally. 

Kitty, with her pained eyes fixed upon 
Bessie’s face, had grown whiter and whiter 
during this speech ; Bessie was too furious to 
observe the change in her. Suddenly, as the 
last abominable sentence was spoken, Kitty 
staggered, felt helplessly in the air with her 
poor little hands, as if blindly trying to save 
herself, and then fell senseless upon the floor. 
Bessie, completely surprised, did nothing for 
a moment ; then, perceiving that the girl had 
really fainted, stooped dov/n, and roughly 


84 The American Dtichess 

shook her by the shoulder, calling upon her 
to get up. She was now thoroughly frightened 
at the result her words had effected ; especially 
as, at this moment, she heard De Montfort’s 
footsteps coming along the adjoining corridor 
on his way to his own room. He could not 
fail to see Kitty here, she knew, and she 
bitterly regretted the steps she had taken. 
De Montfort’s quick ear had heard Bessie’s 
voice urging Kitty to get up, before the 
former had known of his approach. Thinking 
to save the situation, by dragging Kitty into 
her own room, Bessie stooped over her, and 
tried to raise her in her arms. At this 
moment De Montfort appeared at the other 
end of the passage. 

“Good God! what is it, Miss Barmore?” he 
exclaimed, in a low voice, coming forward. 

“ Nothing,” answered Bessie. “ I suppose 
Kitty has fainted from the heat.” 

“ Poor, dear little girl,” interrupted Wynd- 
ham. 

“ Or, perhaps, she has been worrying her- 
self more than usual,” Bessie added, with a 
slight sneer. 

“Why, what about?” he asked, much con- 
cerned, and not seeing Bessie’s drift. 


Peril 85 

“ Well, I should think you would easily be 
able to understand/’ 

The wicked look in Bessie’s eyes recalled 
their former conversation to his mind. He ex- 
perienced a painful revulsion of feeling for a 
moment, and then, ashamed of his weakness, 
he said quickly, — 

‘‘Let us get her out of this close passage.” 

Stooping, he gathered up her childish, help- 
less form in his arms. Bessie noted the tender- 
ness with which he bent over the girl, and the 
care he took in placing her head so as to support 
it against his shoulder, as he carried her : one 
hand and arm hung down listlessly, and De Mont- 
fort’s blood coursed fast as his eyes noted the 
pretty helpless feet ; one little house slipper 
had fallen off, and he saw, and , remembered 
long afterwards, the neat darn revealed in the 
dainty stocking. Pretty underwear was one 
of “ Kitty’s useless extravagances,” according 
to Bessie’s ideas. Tenderly De Montfort carried 
Kitty down the corridor to an old sofa which 
stood against the wall. Having laid her down, 
he tapped gently at Malcolm’s door which was 
beside it, and called him to come quickly and 
help him carry the sofa and place it before the 
open door, leading out on to the verandah, 


86 


The American Duchess 


Malcolm’s face changed colour when, quickly 
opening his door, he saw and grasped the 
situation. 

“Poor little Kitty! what has happened?” 
Bessie heard him say, hardly above his breath. 
Then together the two friends proceeded to 
place the sofa in the pure air. Bessie stood 
by, doing and saying nothing. 

■“ Get some water.” Wyndham turned to 
Malcolm as he himself knelt down beside the 
couch and began to chafe Kitty’s hands. 
Bessie did not move, and Malcolm turned 
quickly to the pail which stood always, fresh 
filled from the spring, upon a wooden bench 
at the other end of the corridor near the 
head of the staircase. “Haven’t you got any 
salts. Miss Barmore ? ” 

“ I’ll go and get Nan to come.” 

Bessie felt as if her jealousy would stifle 
her ; she determined to stop the scene at 
any cost. Seeing Bessie’s back turned, and 
Malcolm gone towards the distant water pail, 
Wyndham permitted himself to take one long, 
yearning look at the girl’s face. He longed 
to have' the right to ki.'-s into warmth and 
life her slightly' parted lips. He noted the 
delicate tracery of the blue veins upon hey 


Pe7'il 


8 / 


closed eyelids, whose long fringes lay so 
terribly still upon her cheeks ; a horrible fear 
that she was dead suddenly possessed him. 
Bending nearer to her, he said in a whisper, 
“Dear, darling, my darling, wake up.” His 
breath fell hot upon her as he in his anxiety 
bent closer to her; his heart, gave a great 
bound of relief, when, as if his own burning 
breath had had power to re-invigorate her, he 
perceived a slight tinge of colour returning to 
her pale face. 

“ Thank God ! Thank God ! ” The fervent 
prayer reached Kitty’s ear, and startled her 
back into fuller consciousness ; she opened her 
eyes. For a moment all was a blank to her, 
then, memory returning, shame overpowered 
her, and she tried to hide herself from his 
ardent eyes by quickly burying her face. 
She did not know that his arm had been 
supporting her, and she had turned and laid 
her face against his breast. 

An hour later Nan closed the door of 
Kitty’s room, leaving her, as she supposed, 
asleep. The girl lay perfectly still until the 
last sound of Nan’s footsteps died away in 
silence ; then, starting up in her be^, she sat 


88 


The American Duchess 


with her hands tightly clasped and. her eyes 
fixed upon the open window. Her face wore 
an expression new to it, in which fear, 
wonder, anger and disgust contended for the 
mastery. A bright flush had painted itself 
upon her cheeks, making her eyes appear 
even bluer than their wont under their long 
fringes. The day being so warm she had 
thrown aside her pink cotton frock, and now 
sat, her hair tossed back and her creamy 
throat and shoulders revealed in all their 
youthful beauty. Half dazed by the events 
of the last hour or two, she tried now to 
collect her thoughts. 

This was the first time her cousin Bessie 
had openly quarrelled with her, and she felt 
stunned at the other’s unkindness. A child 
in mind and sentiments, such thoughts as 
Bessie’s accusations had suggested had never 
before occurred to her. Bessie had that day 
found her still a child and left her a woman. 
The exquisite innocence and unconsciousness 
of childhood had given place to a confusion 
of ideas ; for the first time Kitty realised 
her supreme need, until now unrecognised, 
that of her mother’s love. She felt like a 
lonely castaway upon a strange shore, AVhere 


Peril 


89 


should- she turn for guidance ? She thought 
naturally of Nan as her only female relative, 
she who had been her nurse since infancy ; 
but good Nan, with her simple ideas, would, 
she knew, be as little able as herself to solve 
the problems which now confused her mind. 
She shrank from telling her trouble to her 
father ; a certain delicate shame restrained 
her, she could not have explained to herself 
why she felt this reluctance. 

Until now, she had never had a thought 
which her father had not shared ; to him 
had she run with all her childish woes, and 
his were the first commendations she had 
sought upon the occasions of her innocent 
triumphs and successes. In sickness she had 
lain in his arms, secure in his protection and 
love, hearing the strong beat of his heart 
beneath her ear. Those powerful heart-beats 
had filled her childish imagination with awe, 
and increased her reverence for him who was 
her devoted slave and constant companion. 
He had endeavoured to fill the place of both 
parents to his motherless child ; and, until 
now, had succeeded in winning her entire 
confidence, as well as her love. Generally 
their home had been without other inhabitants 


90 


The American Duchess 


than Nan, Kitty, himself and his servants ; 
this summer, however, he had invited different 
relatives to visit him, thinking thus to further 
amuse his lonely child. Could he have known 
it, Kitty found this incursion far from being 
a diversion, and she continually longed for 
the sough of the autumn winds in the hearts 
of the great trees, which stood around the house 
and filled the yard, knowing that this would 
be the signal for flight of these summer visitors. 

She was especially puzzled by Bessie, who 
had surprised and disconcerted her with 
her ambitious aspirations with regard to 
marriage. At first, hearing them, Kitty had 
gone on her way, laughing and believing 
them a joke; now, however, she found that 
instead Bessie was in bitter earnest. This 
train of thought brought De Montfort to her 
mind, and the events of the afternoon. 
Suddenly her face was suffused with blushes, 
which coloured even her throat, and stole 
down the whiteness of her breast. Burying 
her face in her hands, she cried, “I can never 
see him again. I cannot 1 I cannot ! Oh, Bessie, 
how hateful you have been.” 

“Are you awake, darling? I thought you 
were fast asleep.” 


Peril 


91 


Good Nan, hearing her voice from outside 
the door, where she had stolen back to keep 
watch, stood upon the threshold. Kitty 
startled, lifted her head quickly. 

“ What is it, .Aunt Nan ? ” 

“Nothing, dear. I heard you stir, and 
came in to see if you would like a cup of 
coffee?” 

“ Oh, yes, yes.” Her only thought was to 
get rid of Nan and be alone. 


About half-past seven that evening all the 
house was astir in expectation of the straw- 
ride. The music of youthful laughter re- 
sounded everywhere — in the house, on the 
porch, and under the old trees in the yard. 
Great preparations were being made, and in 
the distance could be heard the rumble of the 
great wain wending its way heavily towards 
the house, at the heels of its queerly assorted 
train of beasts ; the crack of the driver’s long 
whip could be heard at intervals urging up 
the animals to their unwonted task. 

“ Here comes the team,” exclaimed Uncle 
J ohn, cheerily. “ Is everybody ready ? ” 

“And here comes the moon, Tom,” added 
the master of the house, laughing and point- 


92 The American Duchess 

ing towards tlie great red disc which smiled 
at them through the interlacing branches of 
the oaks at his left. “ I guess you couldn’t 
do very well without her.” Then turning 
and looking from group to group, he said, 
“ Where’s Kitty ? I don’t see her any- 
where.” 

De Montfort, who had long ago missed 
her, listened eagerly for the response, stand- 
ing smoking with his back against one of the 
pillars of the porch. 

“Oh, she must be somewhere around,” Tom 
answered carelessly. Then, turning to the 
window nearest him, he shouted, “ Kitty ! 
Kitty ! ” 

Kitty, who was in the kitchen, heard, and 
her face flushed deeply. 

“ What must I do, what must I do ? ” she 
thought. “ I can never go. 1 don’t know 
what he must think of me.” 

Bessie’s words had so disturbed her that 
she had almost determined not to accompany 
the others that evening ; and yet she felt 
she had not strength to face all the inquiries 
which would be made. 

“Kitty! say, Kitty! Where are you?” 

“ Jlere she is ! ” 


Peril 


93 

Two of her school friends burst into the 
kitchen. 

“Why don’t you come, Kitty? We’re wait- 
ing for you, an’ the moon’s perfectly lovely ; 
come along.” 

They caught her arms, a boy on one side 
and his sister on the other, and together 
dragged her from her hiding-place, laughing 
and unconscious of tlie fact that Kitty had 
had any idea of remaining behind. Over- 
borne by their impetuosity, Kitty thought 
the best thing was to go quietly, but she 
made up her mind she would stay with these 
two, and not speak to either of the English- 
men all the evening. 

“Good-bye, dear dad,” she said, seeking 
to stop her escorts beside her father’s chair 
in the porch. They released her, and, throw- 
ing herself upon her knees, she wound her 
arms about him, and kissed him so passion- 
ately as to surprise him. 

“ Why, Kitty, what’s the matter ? One 
would think you were going on a journey 
instead of a straw'-ride.” 

She had buried her face in his breast, and 
longed to remain thei’e undisturbed. 

“Something’s the matter with her,” said 


94 


The American Duchess 


the young girl at her side, innocently; “we 
found her all alone in the kitchen and made 
her come.” 

This alarmed Mr Fauntleroy ; he felt the 
clinging of her arms about him, and his 
intense love for her made him discern that 
all was not right with his pet. Taking her 
head in both his hands he turned up her face 
towards his own. 

“Tears, Kitty, tears, dear; why, what has 
happened ? ” 

He was really alarmed. Tears and Kitty 
were an unreconcilable quantity in her father’s 
mind. Except when her tender little heart 
had been touched by the sufferings of some 
of her many, old and sick, white and nigger 
'proteges, or, perhaps, by the death of a pet, 
he had never seen her cry. She had always 
been as a radiant sunbeam near him, diffusing 
her happiness as light about his invalid couch, 
and warming his heart with her bright smiles 
and happy laughter. 

Wyndham, sheltered in a doorway near, 
also saw the tears, as the light from the 
parlour lamp fell upon her upturned facej 
he bit his lip, restraining with difficulty his 
longing to try to comfort her. Lying there in 


Peril 


95 


her father’s arms, he realised that she was 
in a safe haven. “ Confound it all,” he 
thought, “ what can have happened to disturb 
her.” With his disengaged hand he turned 
the long end of one side of his moustache 
between his teeth and bit it fiercely. 

At this moment the driver of the team 
cracked his whip; Bessie called out “Aren’t 
you coming Mr De Montfort ? ” and Malcolm 
sitting beside her, joined in “We are all ready, 
old fellow.” Then came the cry from many 
voices, “ Where’s Kitty ? ” 

“Let me take care of Miss Fauntleroy, sir.” 
Wyndliam advanced from his corner. 

“Oh, dad. I’d rather not go,” Kitty whispered 
hurriedly, as she pulled his handkerchief from 
his pocket, and quickly dried her eyes with it. 

“Nonsense, Kitty, run along,” and turning 
to Wyiidham, who had become a great favourite 
of his, he added, “You look after her, De 
Montfort ; she seems a little out of sorts, and 
the ride will do her good.” 

“That I shall,” responded the other, earnestly, 
his face flushing with the emotion he felt. 

“Dear dad, I do wish you wouldn’t,” again 
poor little Kitty whispered, despairing at the 
turn events were taking. 


96 


The American Duchess 


“Come Kitty! come Kitty! we can’t wait 
all night,” came in the voice of Uncle 
Tom, chorused by a dozen others, “Kitty, 
Kitty ! ” 

Obeying an overpowering impulse to comfort 
and protect her, Wyndham advanced to where 
she now stood beside her father and took her 
hand as if she had been a child. She did not 
resist the clasp of his strong fingers. Had she 
been less a child she might have felt that they 
trembled as they closed over hers. 

“ Come along — ” He checked himself, then 
added more formally, “ Miss Kitty.” 

Her father, relieved to see that she was no 
longer crying, hastened to assist him with, 
“ Now, get along, Kitty,” called out in a tone 
of pretended jollity, and Kitty, overcome by 
the potency of Wyndham’s firm grasp, felt her 
determination failing her. She knew that to 
resist further would necessitate explanations 
which she felt unable to formulate even to 
herself. With her hand still held, she turned in 
a confusion of strange emotion, and bending 
over him, silently kissed her father ; then, as 
if in a sort of trance, she looked up into 
Wyndham’s face, dumbly inquiring whither he 
meant to lead her. 


Peril 97 

“ I assure you, I shall take- every care of her. 
Au revoir, Mr Fauntleroy.” 

Wyndham, bowing to his host, laid Kitty’s 
little passive hand upon his own arm, and turn- 
ing, conducted her down the steps of the porch 
and out into the yard beyond, to where the 
waggon stood. She walked unresistingly by his 
side, mesmerised by his pow'crful will. It 
seemed to her a dream, and perfectly natural 
that he should thus firmly be compelling her to 
accompany him against her will. All had 
become unreal to her ; she heard the noise and 
clamour of the others calling her and urging 
speed without applying it to herself. She even 
saw good old Nan’s face, in its accustomed 
broad fiapping hat, bending over the side of the 
high waggon, smiling down upon her without 
making any response, and when De Montfort, 
bending down, said gently, — 

“ Do not try to climb up, Kitty. I’ll lift you 
in as it is so high.” 

She felt a quiet sense of comfort in resigning 
herself to him, to be lifted like a child, she who 
always refused as.sistance, when in camping-out 
parties there was difficult climbing to be done, 
and whose agile body could swing itself un- 
aided from point to point, scorning assistance. 

G 


98 The American Duchess 

Wyiiclham breathed hard as he felt the weight 
of her slender body against his breast, uncon- 
sciously she seemed to cling to him, his head 
swam, and a longing that this moment could 
last for ever flashed by him as he raised and 
lifted her, and placed her upon the straw at 
Nan’s side. His influence was so strong upon 
her, that as his arms slowly unwound them- 
selves from about her, she experienced a sense 
of lo;5S, and was only recalled to herself by a 
rather coarse laugh from Bessie opposite, who 
called out, — 

“Whatever in the world is the matter with 
you, Kitty ? You seem determined to give 
Mr de Montfort trouble to-day.” 

Kitty started, and the glamour of Wyndham’s 
control over her will suddenly left her, over- 
come with shame and terror. “ Had she not 
determined to avoid him ? not even to speak 
to him again and, yet . . . and yet ...” She 
crouched down against Nan’s side, endeavour- 
ing to lose herself behind her, and turning 
as far as she could from De Montfort who 
had succeeded in ousting a country youth, 
and had settled himself in the latter’s place 
at her other side. He had heard Bessie’s un- 
kind speech, and flashed a look of disapproval 


Peril 


99 


upon the beauty, who w'as endeavouring to 
distract to herself the whole of Malcolm Fair- 
leigh’s attention. The latter, however, w^as 
regarding Kitty anxiously. 

“ I hope you are no longer feeling ill, Miss 
Kitty ? ” he asked kindly. 

“ Oh, no, I am quite well,” Kitty said 
hastily. 

“Then why do you need gentlemen to lift 
you into the waggon ? You used not to be 
so fragile.” 

Bessie’s voice drawled out slowly with un- 
pleasant accentuation. She hated Malcolm as 
she noted the tone of interest in his voice. 
He and Kitty had become very friendly lately ; 
his youth had led her to regard him some- 
what in the light of the other boys with whom 
she had attended school all her life. 

At the moment when Bessie finished speak- 
ing, the driver again began to urge his animals 
to make the start down the curving carriage 
drive. The whip cracked, the waggon gave 
a great jolt, for the drive had scarcely been 
mended since slave times, and amidst the 
merry screams and laughter of the young 
people, poor little Kitty sunk into a pained 
silence behind Nan’s ample .back. De Mont- 


lOo The American Duchess 

fort, seated beside her, was keenly alive to 
her distress, and, manlike, he longed to 
comfort her, without knowing how to do so. 
The waggon jolted through the old gateway 
and out into the high road, which, being more 
open, gave a lovely .view over the country 
towards Pisgah, lying bathed in the light of 
the full moon. 

The young ones were in the highest spirits, 
and, with one accord, on coming out into the 
moonlight, burst into song. To the accompani- 
ment of whip-cracks, the rumbling of the heavy 
wain, the jingling of harness, and the steady 
tramping of the animals, the sweet old measures 
of “ Down by the Swanee River,” winged 
themselves through the still air of the balmy 
summer’s night. Bessie, who had a fine voice, 
though uncultivated, was the leader ; Malcolm’s 
tenor rose in concert, and the rest sang as only 
the young and the birds can sing, their whole 
glad hearts in their fresh voices. Good Nan 
joined in with the rest, and only Kitty and 
De Montfort were silent. They went along 
thus for about a quarter-of-a-mile, the road 
skirting by the rushing waters of the French 
Broad, which could be seen gliding swift and 
black in the moonlight, churning itself into 


Peril 


lOI 


circles of white foam about the rocks which 
everywhere are strewn within its bed. 

Bessie enjoyed the discomforting effect of her 
words on Kitty, and, though singing, watched 
her narrowly. She noted, also. Do Montfort’s 
preoccupation, and with jealous mortification 
attributed it to its true cause. The moon- 
light was so brilliant that Bessie was well 
able to read the expression of all the faces 
surrounding her. De Montfort looking up 
suddenly, found her eyes rivetted upon bis 
face, with, to him, an incomprehensible ex- 
pression. She was thinking “ Why should he 
throw himself away upon that child, when I . . . 
when 1. . . His eyes raised and met hers; 
his expression was cold and distrustful ; it 
brought the colour to her face, and a further 
pang to her heart. Feeling the situation un- 
bearable, she called out quickly, — 

Kitty, why don’t you sing? Kitty!” 

‘^Miss Fauntleroy has a headache, I believe,” 
interposed Wyndham, with a readiness which 
surprised himself. 

Kitty, though having determined to avoid 
him, at this could not refrain from lifting 
her eyes to his with a shy smile ; he was 
rewarded. 


102 The Atnet'ican Duchess 

Malcolm, lookinsj on, saw it all, and sis;hed ; 
he loved Kitty with all the admiration of an 
English boy who meets for the first time his 
ideal. He was accustomed to the pruderies 
and ridiculous affectations of most English 
girls, who are nearly always either shyly self- 
conscious to the verge of awkwardness and 
stupidity, or boldly imitative of their younger, 
brothers home from Eton, adopting mannish 
gestures, loud tones, pretended liking for 
tobacco and ostler’s talk of horses, races and 
the like, till they make themselves appear 
almost unsexed in the eyes of all thinking 
men. Malcolm saw in Kitty a lovely rose, 
perfect in its beauty and entire naturalness. 
He found her always thinking for others, and 
forgetful of herself — unselfish, devoted to 
truth, beautiful, with no thought of what 
effect she produced, accepting the homage she 
received with perfect naturalness and with- 
out affectation, shriued from insult by the 
delicate modesty which environed her, as with 
an ex(j[uisite perfume ; in truth, the wild 
rose of Nature, and unspoiled by an artificial 
cultivation. 

“Let me arrange this shawl behind you.” 
Without waiting for her response, He Montfort 


Peril 


103 


made a comfortable pad of one of bis travel- 
ling vvrap% and proceeded to place it between 
the rough waggon side and Kitty’s shoulder ; 
she smiled her thanks at him, quietly, and 
said to Nan, taking hold of her arm, — 

“Do lean up here, too. Aunt Nan.” As 
she spoke she looked across at Malcolm, who, 
glad to see her more cheerful, leaned towards 
her, and said, — 

“ Isn’t this jolly ! I shall get my governor 
to give a straw - ride when I get back to 
England.” 

At this everyone burst into a merry laugh. 
An English straw - ride ! the incongruity of 
the idea was startling. Under cover of the 
laughter Wyndham drew nearer to Kitty, and 
said, in a meaning tone, — 

“I hope you will one day see England. 
Kitty.” His voice was very low, and seemed 
to caress the name as he spoke it. 

Bessie, straining her ears to hear him, failed 
to catch the words, but she saw his gesture, 
and the expression of his eyes. She thought, 
“He loves her — or is he only fooling with 
her?” 

“AVould you like to go there?” Wyndham 
■vvent on, 


104 The American Duchess 

“Yes, if papa could take me,” she answered, 
innocently raising her eyes to his. A pang 
of disappointment seized him. “ Would she 
never understand ? ” 

“ But you might go with someone else.” 

She looked up startled. 

“ I would never leave dad. I could not.” 

“ Yet you are going to New York in 
November,” sneered Bessie, who had overheard 
her last words. 

Kitty flashed angrily, — 

“ I won’t go to New York,” she cried 
warmly. “ Poor dad makes a mistake when 
he wants me to.” 

At this Bessie laughed sceptically, and 
the other young ones, to whom far-off New 
York seemed a Paradise, chorused their dis- 
approbation, and voiced their longing to have 
her promised opportunity of enjoyment. Nan 
only was silent, fumbling dismally in her 
pocket for her handkerchief ; and Malcolm, 
knowing the subject a sore one with Kitty, 
sought kindly to turn the conversation by 
calling attention to a curious cloud which 
seemed suspended over a gorge in the 
mountains not very far distant. 

‘My God!’ exclaimed Uncle Tom, rubbing 


Peril 


105 


Lard at his eyes — he had been half asleep 
amongst the straw, and was aroused by the 
others calling his attention to the cloud which, 
funnel-shaped, hung black in the otherwise 
clear sky ahead of them—' My God ! that’s 
a cloud-burst. Where are we, Jim ? ’ he cried 
to the driver who had arrested his team, and 
with startled eyes also gazed at the awful 
object ahead. 

“ We’re in about the worst place we could 
be caught in, if the water conies down three 
miles up Pike’s bottom ; the team can’t get 
up them banks nohow, so we must turn and 
run.” 

The men had jumped out of the wain by 
this time, and were assisting in getting the 
long team to turn round on the narrow track. 
They were in a place which had once been the 
bed of a creek, long since disappeared, and 
were well aware of the danger which threatened 
them. 

The heavy wain turned with its precious 
freight of now trembling girls ; the men once 
more got in, pale faces, with teeth firm set. 
Silently they kept their eyes fixed upon the 
great cloud in their rear, which seemed to 
their excited fancies already nearef. The only 


io6 The American Duchess 

sounds were, the repeated wliip-craclcs, and 
the heartrending cries of the driver to his 
beasts, urging them to their top speed as 
they galloped furiously down the narrow pass. 
Bessie was sobbing loudly against Wyndham’s 
shoulder, all her bravado disappeared. Kitty 
quietly tried to comfort good Nan, while the 
tears stole silently down her cheeks as she 
thought of her father sitting liap[)ily awaiting 
their return, unknowing of the awful danger 
which threatened them. Of the others, sudden 
peril had soothed any petty jealousies and 
awakened many dormant sympathies ; strong 
and slender hands met and grasped in an 
anguish of mutual terror. The v,’ain rocked 
and jolted perilously near to overturning as 
the team tore onwards ; the poor brutes 
ahead seemed to scent danger, snorting and 
breathing hard, and one, a roarer, added to 
the horror of the time with the unearthly 
sounds he made as he tugged furiously at the 
collar, flogged and sworn at by his terror- 
maddened driver. 

On they went, jolting over stones, crashing 
over fallen branches, the trees flying by like so 
many gigantic milestones in an infernal dream, 
while above, in strangest contrast, rode the 


Peril 


107 


moon, star - surrounded, calm in the calm 
heavens. Suddenly there was a halt and a 
crash ; one of the foremost beasts had stumbled 
and fallen. The poor brute had been since early 
morning at the plough, and weary from a 
hard day of steady work, could not sustain 
the break-neck pace to which he had been 
put. With difficulty the driver gathered in 
the rest of team, and managed, without further 
accident, to stop the waggon. 

“There is nothing for it but to take out 
the beasts and make for the side of the hill,” 
cried Uncle Tom, hurriedly descending. “ Get 
out girls, our only hope is to make the higher 
ground before the water comes down ! ” 

In a minute the waggon was empty, the 
beasts free and, without waiting for the rest 
of the men who were assisting to disentangle 
the fallen animal, the girls were clambering up 
the side of the ravine, assisted by the two 
Englishmen and Uncle T-om. Malcolm was help- 
ing Bessie and another girl. De Montfort had 
given his arm to Nan, and with Kitty’s hand 
hard clasped in his, the trio made their way 
over the rocks and loose stones, and through 
the brush, followed with greater difficulty 
still by the men leading the trembling beasts, 


io8 The American Duchess 

They had almost gained the upper ground, 
when Uncle Tom, who was aiding an elderly 
lady and her daughter to make the steep 
incline, gave a shout to those below to leave 
the fallen brute and hasten upwards. He, 
from his place of vantage, could see several 
miles up the valley, and to his horror, instead 
of the empty bed of the long since dried-up 
stream, he perceived the whole ravine a broad 
silver sea, looking peaceful enough under the 
moon’s calm rays, but, in reality, a rushing black 
flood, covered with foam and debris, carrying 
death and destruction to all and everything 
it found in its path. 

Seeing the extent of the water. Uncle Tom 
shouted to all to get up higher, and every- 
one strained their utmost up the steep incline. 
Suddenly, with a cry of pain, Kitty slipped ; 
the force of the jerk loosened her hand from 
Wyndham’s, and, unable to help herself, she 
went rolling downwards, over the slippery 
sun-dried grass and loose stones, towards the 
edge of the actual ravine, which they were 
now above, and which in a few minutes more 
would become a flood of seething waters. 
Already could be heard the dull, steady roar 
of the oncoming torrent, Shaking hinjself 


Peril 


109 


free of Nan’s clinging arm, De Montfort 
threw himself towards Kitty, shouting to her 
to clutch at the grass and stones. He could 
hear the sound of the water every moment 
augmenting, and saw Kitty’s white dress 
drawing each second nearer the brink of the 
ravine. The summer sun had rendered the 
grass so slippery that he had hard work 
not to fall himself, and either go rolling 
down into the ravine alone, or perhaps, 
worse still, carrying Kitty with him. The 
girl, whose ankle was dislocated, kept her 
head, and, with much difficulty, managed to 
stop her descent by entangling the one foot 
left her in a low growth, which protruded 
itself an inch or two above the surface of the 
earth amidst the grass, and, with her hands 
clinging to the stones above her, she waited 
for De Montfort’s coming. 

With the horror of the sound of the on- 
coming water in her ears, and unable to 
move, the seconds seemed interminable ages 
to her. She watched him making the diffi- 
cult descent, now slipping, and again just 
regaining his balance in time to prevent his 
precipitating himself upon her and carrying 
both to destruction. It seenaed to her as if 


1 lo The American Duchess 

he would never reach her. Feeling the scrub 
at her feet beginning to give way slowly, 
she closed her eyes in a last agony of ex- 
pectation, instinctively shrinking from seeing 
the edge of the abyss as it approached ; her 
bleeding fingers clung with all their fndl 
strength to the cruel stones which loosened 
as, her foot giving way, her whole weight 
depended upon them. She felt as if she must 
relinquish voluntarily this, her last hold ; a 
deadly giddiness oppressed her, her tense 
muscles relaxed, the poor little hands gave 
up their hold, and her body commenced slowly 
moving downwards. 

“My wife, my darling, my little Kitty.” 
Staggering upwards, almost blinded with the 
tears which resulted from overtaxed nervous 
tension, De Montfort sobbed as he bent his 
lips upon Kitty’s golden hair, and gathered 
her closer in his arms. She had become 
unconscious, and was mercifully spared the 
horrors of the ascent. He could hear the 
shouts of the others, far above him, calling 
to him to hasten. Tliis, with Kitty’s dead 
weight in his arms, he found very difficult 
because of the siipperinesD of the dried grass 


Stumbling and struggling upwards, he 
passed the poor beasts which, unable to go 
higher, had been left to their fate. He saw 
Uncle Tom and Malcolm coming down to 
meet and give him aid ; staggering on, it seemed 
to him as if he walked in a dream, as if he 
had gone through it all before. Suddenly 
a terrible shout made him turn his head ; 
looking towards the source of the expected 
danger, he saw, at the angle of the hill, 
where the ravine came nearest into sight, 
a high wall of water — to him it seemed a 
mountain — bearing steadily towards him. 
Bravely he struggled on, the roar of the awful 
waters in his ears, and poor little Kitty un- 
conscious in his arms. He could no longer 
hear the shouts of those above him, and 
deafened and maddened stumbled on by 
instinct. 

He never knew how he accomplished the 
last part of the ascent. He remembered 
nothing, till he found himself being relieved 
of the burden he bore by Tom and Malcolm, 
and surrounded by friendly faces. Then he 
seemed to emerge from a dream, and with a 
hoarse “ Thank God ! ” fell senseless. 


CHAPTEK VI 

PASSION 
‘‘ Love is a fire ; 

But ah, how short-lived is the flame Desire ! 

And blackened all things else, itself hath perished. 

And now alone in gathering night we stand, 

Ashes and ruin stretch on either hand.” 

Anne Beeve Aldrich. 

“Take my arm, Kitty, you will feel stronger 
when you have walked a few steps.” 

The girl looked up with innocent confidence 
into the strong face bending above her, and 
laid her hand, very white and small, upon his 
proffered arm. 

“ It seems so strange for me to be an invalid. 
It is three weeks now, and I cannot get 
accustomed to it.” 

“ Why, Kitty, you are well now ; you must 
not call yourself helpless any more. In a few 
days I shall lift you on to ‘ Cleve’s ’ back and 
take you for a ride. Would you like that ? ” 

ua 


Passion 


113 

A bright smile was the response as she again 
looked up into his face. 

“ How good you are,” was all she said, and 
he fancied she clung a little closer to his arm, 
as if with increased confidence in his protect- 
tion. 

They were upon the porch, and Wyndham, 
after carrying her down from her room, assisted 
by Nan and old Pete, had been reading to her, 
and trying to interest her with stories of his 
home in England, and of his travels in many 
lands. On his sofa, near by, her father lay 
dosing, his paper fallen from his hand, and 
his old hound keeping guard beside him. The 
horror of the flood and the shock of Kitty’s 
injury had had a bad effect upon Mr Fauntle- 
roy, and he had been ailing more than usual 
since the disaster. 

As Kitty stood leaning upon De Montfort’s 
arm, her eyes fell upon her father’s delicate 
face. The smile died from her own as she 
noted the pathetic lines of suffering about his 
mouth, suffering borne without complaint, and 
concealed beneath an assumption of cheerful- 
ness when often most poignant. The extreme 
delicacy of his hand, hanging listless over the 
side of the couch, perhaps told more than did 


114 The American Duchess 

his face ; that hand once so strong to curb a 
rebellious horse, or to handle the heaviest 
rifle. 

“ I cannot bear to see him looking so ill,” she 
said sadly, and Wyndham saw her blue eyes 
fill with tears. Fearing in her weak state to 
see her cry, he said quickly, — 

“ Now, Kitty, you must not give way like 
this. Come, I have told Pete to arrange the 
hammock down under the trees. Lean on me 
The grass is soft, and I think we can easily 
walk as far as that,” he went on cheerily. 

In response, Kitty raised her eyes to his with 
the tears still glistening upon her long lashes. 
He longed to fold her in his arms and kiss the 
tears away, but restrained himself, thinking 
that the time was not yet ripe for telling her 
of his love, and knowing that she, beyond her 
child-like confidence and trust in him, was 
conscious of no warmer feeling for him. 

Slowly they made their way together across 
the ill-kept drive and to the grass beyond. 
They had nearly accomplished half the dis- 
tance when Wyndham felt Kitty’s weight 
becoming greater upon his arm ; anxiously 
he sought to see her face, her head was 
drooping slightly, and the thick waving gold 


Passion 


^15 

of her hair hung forward like a curtain, 
partially screening her face from his view. 

“Are you faint, dear?” he asked gently, 
standing still beneath the great whispering 
trees. She did not answer ; and, alarmed, he 
passed his arm around her to support her, 
just in time to prevent her falling upon the 
grass ; she had fainted. 

“Poor child, she is weaker than I supposed,” 
he thought, lifting her and carrying her towards 
the hammock. At this moment he saw walking 
towards him Malcolm and Bessie. “Malcolm, 
come and give me a hand,” he called, “this 
poor child has fainted. You had better run 
to the house and bring me my flask. Do not 
alarm her father,” he added thoughtfully, “he 
is on the porch, and asleep.” 

As Malcolm sped towards the house to do his 
behest, Bessie came slowly towards him, with a 
disagreeable smile upon her lips. 

“How very interesting,” she said, in a tone 
w'hich exasperated Wyndham. 

He had scarcely seen her since the disaster, as 
she had been compelled to return home and 
help her mother and grandmother, and thus w'as 
ignorant of the part of Nan’s assistant in nurs- 
ing, which he had been fulfilling towards Kitty. 


1 1 6 The American Duchess 

“Pardon me, Miss Barmore,” he said coldly, 
“but I cannot see anything to sneer at in your 
little cousin’s fainting.” 

He turned and sought to arrange Kitty’s 
head more comfortably upon the cushions. 
Bessie standing behind him trembled with 
conflicting passions as she jealously watched 
his solicitude for Kitty. 

“ I was not sneering, Mr de Montfort,” she 
said, “ I was only surprised to see you so dis- 
turbed and anxious about the promised wife of 
another man. I wonder what he would have to 
say,” she added, with a little insolent laugh. “ I 
guess Kitty has taken good care not to speak of 
him to you, though. He is very poor, you 
know, and I daresay she would not care to 
mention him to you.” 

She laid an unpleasant stress upon the last 
word of her speech. Wyndham heard it all 
with bitter rage gnawing at his heart. He bent 

o o o 

fovward over Kitty, arranging a shawl about 
her ; Bessie could not see his face, but she saw 
that his hands moved blindly, as if acting 
automatically, and she knew that her shot had 
struck home. 

“If I could only make him suffer a little of 
what I suffer,” she thought, closing her un- 


Passion 


117 

gloved hands till the nails bit into the flesh. 
“ Why did I ever see him ? I was happy 
before ... I did not know ... I thought I 
loved Will Bell ... I might have loved 
Malcolm, and made him love me, if I had 
never seen him.” 

She gazed hungrily at Wyndham’s profile, 
which now turned towards her, as he anxiously 
watched for Malcolm’s return from the house. 
Wyndham possessed that rare beauty in a man, 
a fine square jaw, and magnificent throat ; he 
carried his head well, and had the air of one 
born to dominate. Bessie knew every turn of 
his head ; every little trick and expression of 
his face. She watched him now from the 
garden seat, into which she had sunk inert, with 
the hopeless misery of one of the condemned. 

Meanwhile, to Wyndham’s great content- 
ment, Kitty opened her eyes and, smiling, 
thanked him for the care he had shown her. 
Malcolm returned with Nan and some wine 
and cake for Kitty’s refreshment. Kitty sat 
up in her hammock, laughing, telling Nan, 
who was much concerned about her, that she 
was quite well. Malcolm, who was in high 
spirits, laughed with both, and Bessie sat on 
in moodily discontented silence. AVyndham, 


1 1 8 The American Duchess 

leaving Kitty in Nan’s care as soon as she 
appeared cheerful and comfortable, excused 
himself and walked off’ up tlie mountain which 
lay at the back of the house in the direction 
of the spring. He felt the necessity of being 
alone. He wanted to tlnnk. 

Since the night of the disaster Wyndham 
had almost lost sight of the jealousy which 
Bessie’s hints and innuendoes had given birth 
to. His constant attendance upon little Kitty, 
her innocent, child-like character and behaviour, 
had soothed him into forgetfulness of his former 
fears. Now Bessie’s bold assertions reawakened 
all his previous doubts, and recalled him from 
the lulled security into which he had fallen. 

He walked rapidly onwards, noticing nothing 
by the w'ayside, and completely absorbed in 
his painful thoughts. Kitty had seemed to 
him so child-like, so devoted to her father 
alone, that he found it difficult to believe that 
another interest overshadowed her life, of such 
strength as to even render her rebellious against 
the wishes of her father, causing her to prapose 
later to make an unsuitable marriage in direct 
disobedience to his will. 

She liad seemed to him so fresh and innocent, 
^pd wdthout expciieuce of any kind, For hip^ 


Passion 


119 

this had been one of her principal charms, and 
it hurt him to have his belief in her lessened 
even in the smallest degree. The sun went 
down, and still he climbed upwards, not noting 
where he was, and with Bessie’s brutally plain 
assertions repeating themselves in his ears. 

“ Going to leave us, De Montfort ? Why, 
that is a sudden determination, is it not?” 

Kitty’s father looked up into his visitor’s 
face with a simple, affectionate regard. He 
had grown attached to the younger man, and 
there was a sincere ring of regret in his voice 
as he responded to Wyndham’s announcement 
that the latter intended to leave for the West 
on the morrow to prosecute his long-deferred 
visit to some English friends in Lower Cali- 
fornia. 

“By Jove, old fellow, what is taking you off 
so suddenly? Of course I am ready to start, 
if you wish it ; but it seems rather strange to 
bolt off in this way, doesn’t it ? Has any- 
thing happened ? ” Malcolm’s thoughts flew 
to Kitty. 

“Nothing has happened,” replied his friend, 
rftther morosely ; “ but it appears to me we haye 


120 The American Duchess 

prolonged our stay to an unconscionable length, 
seeing that I, at least, arrived here without any 
invitation.” 

Malcolm regarded his friend’s broad back with 
a puzzled expression ; his fair brows knitted as 
he watched the other stalking up and down the 
long room with his hands thrust deep in his 
pockets. De Montfort’s head was bent, chin 
down upon his breast, and he had not cared to 
raise his eyes and meet those of Malcolm as he 
made his announcement of intended departure. 

The last hues of a glorious sunset were dying 
in the sky without, and they were in Malcolm’s 
room, whither the latter had come to make some 
change in his toilet before going down to 
supper. 

The announcement of their guests’ intended 
departure on the morrow had been communi- 
cated to the other members of the family by Mr 
Fauntleroy, as they assembled round the long 
and brightly-lighted supper-table. 

Kitty heard the announcement with genuine 
regret, but was unconscious to herself of any 
deeper feeling. Aunt Nan and Uncle Tom 
were loud in their plaints at losing their 
fi'iends, for the letter had, both by their 


Passion 1 2 1 

pleasant manners and manly bearing and con- 
duct, endeared themselves to everyone in this 
quiet country house among the Alleghanies. 

Bessie alone of all the large assemblage was 
silent. An unnatural light burnt in her large 
grey eyes, they seemed black under the influ- 
ence of her excitement, and a brilliant spot of 
colour had painted itself upon either cheek, 
giving her the one touch her beauty lacked, 
and making her appear almost startlingly hand- 
some. IMalcolm could not remove his eyes from 
her face. She saw his admiration for her ex- 
pressed in his eyes, and smiled triumphantly. 
She was not thinking of him, but of De Mont- 
fort, who at this moment entered the room and 
came quietly to his place at the table beside 
Kitty. After some time, when the others had 
ceased in their expressions of regret at De 
IMontfort’s leaving, and their many unavailing 
attempts at persuading him to change his 
mind and remain ; Kitty said softly in his 
ear, — 

“I am so sorry you are going. Why must 
you, yet?” 

De Montfort turned quickly at these words, 
and noted her tranquil regard with a fierce 
pang of disappointment. She met the burning 


122 The American Duchess 

light in his eyes without seeming to see or 
understand it. 

“ God ! ” he thought, “ is she a child still, or 
the veriest hypocrite that breathes ? ” 

Frowning savagely, he turned, and appeared 
to devote himself to his plate. Bessie, at this 
moment, forgot to respond to some remark of 
Malcolm’s, she was so keenly interested in the 
scene before her. 

“Many a man has been caught in the re- 
bound,” she said to herself, and waited ; noting 
how Kitty again tormented De Montfort, by 
saying gently,— 

“ What has caused you to make up your 
mind so suddenly ? You know you were talk- 
ing this afternoon of taking me for a ride.” 

He turned to reply, and saw merely a look 
of simple disappointment upon her face at the 
thought of missing the many little services he 
had rendered her lately. 

“I cannot stand this,” he thought, “better 
to make the plunge and go to-morrow.” 

Turning to her he made some excuse about 
business calling him, and then, as an after- 
thought, added,— 

“ But we shall weet in New York iu 
ITovember; you—?” 


Passion 


123 


Oh, I hope not ! ’’ exclaimed the girl, look- 
ing anxiously towards her father, I do hope 
not ! ” 

Bessie saw the quick contraction of his brows. 
Suddenly, becoming aware that she was watch- 
ing him, he turned his head towards Aunt Nan, 
and asked her some indifferent question. 

The evening was drawing to a close. The 
nightly dance in the parlour was ended, and a 
noisy game of forfeits was in progress before the 
young people should retire for the night. Here 
and there, lying curled up in corners, or 
stretched along the benches by the wall, were 
seen the youngest members of the family, who 
should long since have been in bed and asleep, 
but, Southern fashion, were permitted to remain 
up until the hour when their elders, too, 
retired. 

Kitty, of course, had not joined in the danc- 
ing, and now remained sitting at her father’s 
side watching the somewhat uproarious fun of 
the forfeit players. De Montfort, making an 
excuse about his packing, had escaped to have 
a smoke, and sauntered off down the yard to 
think, under the shadow of the great trees 
whete fhe liaipmook was swung. This was a 


124 


The American Duchess 


favourite resort of his, and Bessie, watching 
him, knew as she heard his footstep leave the 
verandah, that he had gone there. Presently 
she, too, quietly left the room by an open 
window, and started to cross the yard. 
Malcolm, looking after her, saw her white 
dress gleaming in the moonlight as it moved 
amongst the trees. He had been paying her 
great attention to-night, for, owing to the 
suppressed excitement she was labouring under, 
she had never appeared more beautiful. He 
was enchanted by her gaiety, which he was too 
inexperienced to know was false, and the result 
of the over-tension of her nerves. Seeing her 
disappear through the trees, and not knowing 
that De Moutfort, also, had gone that way, 
Malcolm determined that as soon as he could 
escape the forfeits he would follow her. 

De Montfort was pacing to and fro beneath 
the trees. Bessie could see his tall figure in 
the distance, now appearing where the moon- 
light pierced the branches of the great black 
pines, and then disappearing altogether in the 
deep shadows bejmnd. A desperate impulse 
had caused her to follow him ; she could not 
have told why she did it, or what she hoped 
for as a result of the precipitate step she was 


Passion 


125 


taking. Blinded by Her passion for liim, and 
her anguish at the knowledge of his departure 
on the morrow, she had become desperate, 
forgetting maidenly modesty, shame, every- 
thing which should have restrained her in her 
impetuous course, she longed only to gain his 
side, to hear his voice, even were it only raised 
to curse and not to bless her. 

De Montfort waas too deeply absorbed in 
his own thoughts to notice Bessie’s approach ; 
just as she neared him ‘ he seated himself 
wearily upon a rustic seat within the shadow', 
and, taking out a cigar, proceeded to light it. 
Bessie halted close beside him. Now that she 
was with him, she began to realise the diffi- 
culty of the position. For a moment she 
vacillated. Should she go back again ? he 
had not seen her, and she could do it, still 
unperceived by him. She turned her face 
towards the house ; as she did so, all the 
misery returned which she had suffered for 
these hours past, since she had knowm that 
he was to go away upon the morrow, and 
that she would, in all probability, never again 
look upon his face. The thought maddened 
her. She could not do it. She must speak 
to him . . . tell him. . . . She could not let 


126 


The American. Diichess 


him go, thus. • . . She must follow him . . . 
anything . . . anything. . . . But to lose 
him for ever, for ever. . . . She shivered ; the 
balmy warmth of the summer’s night seemed 
to have become suddenly cold ; her limbs 
trembled under her ; she felt herself reeling, 
as she looked upon him where he sat, half 
turned from her, looking towards Kitty’s 
hammock. 

All her bravado and false spirits left her, 
and she realised, as if suddenly become clair- 
voyant, what the empty future would mean 
to her, alone, without him. She, tried to 
speak to him, to cry out in her misery at 
the thought, but her throat was dry, and her 
voice came in a whisper, she felt as if some 
frightful nightmare hold her. Suddenly some 
slight sound she made aroused De Montfort ; 
he turned and saw her standing there. 

“Miss Barmore ! ” he exclaimed, rising and 
facing her, “is anything the matter?” His 
thoughts immediately flew to Kitty. “Any- 
thing wrong at the house ? ” 

Feeling instantly the drift of his thoughts, 
she rallied herself and said with a little 
bitter laugh, — 

“ No, nothing is wrong at the house.” 


Passion 


127 


She noted his sigh of relief as he heard 
her reply to his hurried question, and her 
jealousy, again aroused, she looked at him 
with hatred, almost as great as the love she 
had felt a moment before for him. She re- 
mained standing silent, face to face with him. 

De Montfort had thrown his cigar away 
upon seeing her, and stood expectant, looking 
down into her face where the moonlight fell 
full upon it, showing its beautiful lines, made 
tense with mental suffering, and her lips and 
cheeks pale and drawn. Something in her 
look disturbed him. Suffering ourselves, we 
become sympathetic towards the pain of others. 
Usually unobservant, he now suddenly became 
aware that she, too, suffered, but was quite 
at a loss to explain to himself why she 
should do so. 

“ Will you not sit down here. Miss Barmore?” 
he said kindly, motioning with his hand 
towards the bench from which he had just 
risen. 

A spasm of pain passed over Bessie’s face 
as she heard his voice ; all her hatred vanished 
in an instant, and her passion for him re- 
turned with redoubled force. She felt as if 
she would have fallen ; and with her eyes 


128 


The American Duchess 


still looking up into his, now bent with some 
concern above her, she put out her hands 
as if feeling blindly for something to prevent 
her from falling. He saw the gesture, and, 
thinking her ill, took both her hands in his, 
and led her unresisting to the seat beside 
them, gently placing her upon it. 

“Let me go to the house and call some- 
one,” he said, beginning to wonder at the 
strangeness of the position. 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” 

The piteous pleading of her voice struck 
him with a new surprise. He looked at her 
closely as he stood before her. She seemed 
to crouch upon the bench, and her head was 
so much bent forward as to conceal her face 
from him ; he had difficulty in knowing her 
as Bessie Barmore. Bessie, usually erect, 
almost to defiance ; confident almost to bold- 
ness, and whose beauty alone, excused in 
her these defects of a rural education. De 
Montfort, man-like, stood helpless, not knowing 
what to do, and remained silently regarding 
her. Presently she said, very gently, — 

“ I want to speak to you, please sit down. 
I cannot talk when you stand there looking at 
me.” She added her last words with something 


Passion 


129 


of the petulance he was accustomed to in her, 
causing the situation immediately to appear 
more natural to him. 

“ Certainly, Miss Barmore,’" he replied, seat- 
ing himself beside her. “ Now tell me what I 
can do for you ? ’ he added pleasantly. 

For answer, to his intense surprise and con- 
sternation, Bessie laid her head against his 
shoulder and began to weep bitterly. 

“ Miss Barmore ! ” he exclaimed, unable to 
rise and release himself By doing so he must 
have taken away her snpport, and he felt her 
leaning heavily against him. The situation had 
become ludicrous. 

“My dear Miss Barmore, you must be ill; do 
permit me to assist you to the — ” 

Her sobs ceased, she raised her head. He 
was about to rise, when she fiercely clasped 
both her hands about his arm. 

“Wyndham, can you pretend to misunder- 
stand ? Will you leave me so, feigning in- 
sensibility, when you have broken my heart, 
and ruined my life ? ” 

De Montfort frowned as he turned his 
astonished gaze upon her. Excitement had 
brought back the colour to her face. Her eyes 
blazed with passionate light as they encountered 
I 


130 The American Duchess 

his. Unconsciously her hands tightened their 
clasp upon his arm. Her whole form trembled 
and vibrated at this contact. 

“ I would die for you,” she went on hurriedly, 
her breath coming in fierce gasps, “ yes, die ! 
Is it nothing that I tell you this ; that I forget 
all shame and modesty ? Oh ! ” here she gave 
a bitter cry, “the thought that I must lose you 
to-morrow — ” She broke off, and, still cling- 
ing to him, again sobbed violently against his 
shoulder. 

De Montfort would have been less than a man 
had he remained wholly insensible. Pity for 
her, and an unconsciously flattered egotism, un- 
suspected by himself, made him turn towards 
her and gently slip his arm around her. In 
an instant her own glad arms were thrown 
about his neck, her beautiful head was nest- 
ling against his throat, her whole soft body 
seemed caressing him. She was sobbing and 
laughing in a delirium of joy ; the moonlight 
showed him the lovely lines of her throat and 
bust. He lost his head. The blood coursed 
fiercely through his veins. Bending above her, 
his breath coming short and quick, their lips 
met. They were alone. The moon had hidden 
behind a bank of clouds, and left them in 


Passion 


I. V 


darkness ; a delicious summer darkness, warm 
with the sweet breath of the flowers, and 
musical with the tender love w'ords of the 
leaves whispering above their heads. 

The moon had set, leaving little bars of 
silvery cloud behind. 

Three hours had passed. 

De Montfort was sitting in judgment upon 
himself, and ciu’sing his own folly. Bessie, 
thrilling with joy, lay nestling in his arms, 
oblivious how time passed. Had he not 
promised to make her his wife ? His ideas of 
honour had compelled him to do this. For a 
moment of delirium, he found himself called 
upon to sacrifice his love, and, with it, the 
happiness of his whole life. He tried to drive 
it from him, but could not; Kitty’s face haunted 
him like a reproaching angel. Mentally he 
reiterated his curses upon his own sin and 
folly. 

A sense of justice made hifn hold Bessie 
innocent ; she had been overborne by her 
passionate love for him, whilst he. . . . Well, 
he, with his whole heart bound up in another 
woman, had, for a moment of guilty satisfac- 
tion, chosen to blast the life of this girl now 


132 The American Duchess 

clinging to him with, vA’hat he supposed was 
absolute devotion to himself, and to damn 
his own future. Gloomily he sat, listening 
to the murmur of the balmy breeze in the 
trees around, and with little Kitty’s hammock 
hanging like a silent witness of his lost hap- 
piness before him. 

He listened, too, with something akin to 
loathing, to the regular breathing of this 
woman sheltered on his breast. Bessie had 
drifted from the dreamland of happiness 
into the dreamland of sleep. 

“ Malcolm.” 

“ By Jove, old fellow, what is it ? ” 

Fairleigh roused himself from a sound sleep 
to find De Montfort standing, pale and 
haggard, beside his bed. It was dawn, and 
though the sun had not yet risen, light filled 
the room, enabling him to perceive the 
changed aspect of his friend. 

“ Is anything wrong, De Montfort ? ” 

Malcolm was, by this time, fully awake, 
and looked anxiously at the other who 
was • uneasily pacing the floor with long 
strides. 

Our journey,’ said Wyndlinm, briefly. 


Passion 


133 


“ You look ill ; is anything' the matter ? ” 

“ Nothing whatever,” was the cohl response, 
and De Montfort turned towards the door 
to leave the room. 

De Montfort was bending over a port- 
manteau seeking to close it. Unused to 
being without his valet, he found this diffi- 
cult, and did not hear the door open, nor 
notice that the • room had other occupants 
than himself, until, looking up suddenly, he 
found Bessie standing beside him. 

“ Good God, what brings you here ! Have 
you no regard for yourself?” he cried, spring- 
ing to his feet, and not too gently, taking 
her arm to lead her to the door. 

“I must speak to you. I must — ” began 
Bessie, breathlessly. 

He was steadily conducting her lagging 
steps to the door. 

“ Speak to me ! Yes, but not here.” 

Bessie hung back. 

“ You cannot mean to leave me so — the 
first day of our engagement.” In his excite- 
ment he nearly cursed the engagement openly. 
“ I cannot bear it, here, alone,” she went on, 
beginning to sob, He closed his eyes for a 


134 The American Duchess 

moment, in his misery, as if to shut out the 
sight of her and the remembrance of his 
folly. His nerves were wrought to their 
utmost tension ; he felt as if he would go mad. 
“You cannot leave me now, not till we’re 
married.” He winced. She had thown herself 
into a chair and seemed determined to remain. 
He knew her obstinacy of character, and began 
to despair of persuading her to leave the 
room until it should be too late, and some- 
one have seen her passing out. 

In a moment his whole past seemed before 
him. He thought of his honourable name. 
He remembered that the women of his house 
had always been pure. He saw himself the 
first to stain the shield of the family honour, 
by bringing to be his helpmeet, and the 
mother of his children, one for whom he had 
to blush, and he cursed himself anew. But 
for his sin and folly it might have been Kitty, 
his ideal, his love, who should have been his 
promised wife. ' 

Looking at Bessie, now sitting determinedly 
where she had placed herself against his will, 
he hated her. It required all his sense of 
manhood to prevent him from telling her so, 
a»(i violently thrusting her from the room. 


Passion 


^35 


Taking a turn up and down the long chamber 
in an effort to regain his calm, he came to 
her side, and said hoarsely, — 

“ Bessie, I have explained to 5’ou that I 
must leave to day. His thoughts reverted 
unwillingly to Kitty, and with a shudder he 
went on, “ I must leave this place. . . .” 

“ But you will make me your wife ? ” 

“Yes, I shall make you my wife.” 

He said this with desperate calmness, averting 
his eyes from her. 

“ But what a fool they will think me ; 
engaged to be married, and my beau gone 
away the first day of our engagement,” she 
said coarsely. 

He winced, but told himself that he well 
deserved his punishment. 

“ I cannot help that,” he commenced. The 
sound of a light tap on the door, and of some- 
one entering the room made him turn to see 
Malcolm standing, his astonished and shocked 
gaze rivetted upon Bessie. 

De Montfort sprang forward to close the 
door which Malcolm still held open in his 
wonder, but before he could gain Fairleigh’s 
side, the latter, with some confused words 
of excuse, had escaped from the room 


The American Duchess 


136 

and d’sappeared, dosing the door quiddy. 
De Moiilfort’s rage almost overmastered 
him. 

“ Now, perhaps you will leave this room 
now that you have disgraced the noble 
name I have been fool enough to promise 
you.” 

He had gripped her wrist in his endeavour 
to compel her to obey him ; his face was 
dark and discoloured wdth rage, and Bessie 
quailed beneath the anger in his eyes. Slowly 
she arose, and without another word, going 
to one of the windows, which stood open, 
swung herself over its low sill on to the 
verandah and disappeared. De Montfort, 
looking after her, saw’ her pass in sequence 
the three other windows of the large room ; 
slie carried her head thrown baek defiantly ; 
her eyes had a hard stare, and the beauty of 
her features was distorted by the anger they 
expressed. 

It was a poor augury for a happy future. 

With a smothered sigh De Montfort turned 
to leave the room. 

“ I must save her if I can,” he thought 
bitterly, “ or rather the honour of my 
house,” 


Passion 


137 

He passed out through the door with his 
head bent and an expression of humiliation 
upon his hitherto haughty face, to the room 
occupied by Malcolm. 


CHAPTEE VII 


PARTING 

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow ; 

Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ; 

Farewell to the forests and wild -hanging woods ; 

Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.’’ 

Eobert Burns. 

Two weeks had elapsed. Bessie, fearing the 
ridicule of her companions, had chosen to keep 
her engagement to herself. She had also 
another reason — the advent of Will Bell. The 
latter was coming all the way from Texas to 
see her, and perhaps claim her promise to him, 
made three years ago. They had not met for 
two years, and Will’s coming had been looked 
forward to as an event in the family. Bessie, 
knowing his passionate temperament, and how 
little control he had over himself, thought well 
to let him come and go again, before making her 
engagement public. She had been moody and 
discontented ever since the departure of De 
*38 


Parting 1 39 

Montfort and his friend. Letters had come 
thanking Mr Fauntleroy and the famil)' 
generally for their kindness and hospitality. 
Bessie raged inwardly that no special one letter 
had come to her from De Montfort ; they had 
parted before the family with no warmer 
demonstration than as ordinary friends. De 
Montfort had made those adieus as curtailed 
as possible, avoiding being alone with either 
Bessie or Kitty. The latter had seemed less 
gay than usual, and the Englishman thought 
he detected a slight tearfulness in her voice 
as she bid him adieu. Aunt Nan had openly 
wept, with much use of a very voluminous 
pocket - handkerchief. Wyndham, first her 
patient, had later greatly endeared himself 
to her. Had he been one of her many 
nephews she could not have loved him more, 
and her warm heart overflowed with sorrow 
at the thought of his departure. 

Malcolm had gone away feeling very much 
distressed regarding the complications which 
had arisen. Believing that De Montfort was 
sincerely attached to Kitty, he had, notwith- 
standing his own devotion to her, honourably 
endeavoured by every moans in his power not 
to show his love for her, nor in any way allow it 


140 The American Duchess 

to interfere with his friend’s success. Now De 
Montfort told him of his own engagement to 
Bessie, taking care to defend her from tlie 
appearance of evil which her presence in his 
room must have suggested to hlalcolm’s mind 
that morning, by attributing it to her ignor- 
ance of conventional forms and natural desire 
to be near him as he made his preparations 
for departure. 

De Montfort’s engagement to Bessie left 
Malcolm and Kitty free ; and the former 
bitterly regretted his now closed visit, with 
its many opportunities, which, had he been 
less honourable, he might have turned to 
account in attempting to wdn the heart of 
sweet little Kitty. 

Dearly as he was attached to his friend he 
felt a certain bitterness towards him, and had 
almost brought himself to the point of letting 
the latter go on his journey alone, and asking 
Mr Fauntleroy to permit himself to remain for 
a short time longer here in the mountains. 
But the stronger will of De Montfort over- 
ruling, had brought Malcolm to the point of 
saying adieu to the family and to departing 
with himself. Malcolm had, however, the hope 
of meeting Kitty again, in New York, at no 


I4I 


Parting 

distant date, and this enabled him to endure 
the bad luck, as he called it, of the present 
time. 

Thus the friends had gone together, leaving 
the family in its quiet mountain home, to con- 
tinue its life in its usual uneventful routine. 

“Dear Aunt Nan, don’t you worry any 
more over that skirt, I am quite sure it is 
long enough and will look very well.” 

Kitty had come behind Aunt Nan’s low 
chair, where that good, comfortable creature 
sat, in the declining rays of the afternoon 
sun, before the open window. On Nan’s lap, 
and indeed surrounding her everywhere, in 
masses of billowy whiteness, were the parts 
of a white muslin dress in progress of being 
put together. 

Nan Avas assisted by the two daughters of 
a Southern colonel who, ruined by the war, 
were pleased, by means of what they called 
dressmaking, to earn a few cents to keep the 
wolf of winter from the door. One of the 
girls had charo:e of the sewing-machine, and, 
to Nan's great distress, had but just now 
succeeded in running most of the breadths 
of delicate material ii; lock stitch, wrong side 


142 


The American Duchess 


before. Nan’s usually beaming face was now 
puckered uncomfortably in her distress over 
the mistake which had been made. Kitty, 
always sympathetic, endeavoured to console 
her with affectionate caresses, but, to Nan’s 
mind, this affair of preparing Kitty’s clothing 
for her visit to New York was an extremely 
difficult and weighty matter. She continued 
to sit fingering the muslin, and apparently so 
engrossed with her present difficulty as not 
even to notice Kitty’s presence. 

The two assistants looked helplessly at their 
chief, and, all together, they made a picture 
of a bevy of tired women, weary with the 
efforts of a long day’s sewing, and illumined 
by no very brilliant ideas as to the proper 
modes of accomplishing the ends they had 
in view. Standing behind Nan’s chair, with 
her cheek laid against the latter’s smoothly 
soft hair, Kitty watched them all sadly. She 
was no more pleased to go to New York than 
at first, and disliked these preparations which 
caused good old Nan such trouble and per- 
turbation of mind. She knew that this especial 
white muslin dress had been the subject of 
weeks of thought on Nan’s part, and was 
looked upon by her as the flower of all her 




Parting 143 

efforts, and was intended by the simple-minded 
creature to be the dress in which Kitty was 
to appear at the balls, to be given in her 
honour by her New York grandmother. In 
the little bonnet-shop of the small, struggling 
country town, two miles distant, Nan had 
discovered some long sprays of artificial 
flowers intended for the garniture of large 
round hats. These, it had struck her, would 
look beautiful placed upon each breadth of 
the full, round skirt, and also on the bodice, 
and ,as shoulder-knots ; the only thing was 
that there were hardly enough of the one 
kind to carry out her plans. This was very 
distressing to her simple mind, and after 
spending a sleepless night, she finally resolved 
the matter to her satisfaction by dispatching 
old Pete to the milliner, commanding the 
latter to furnish, besides the wreaths of pink 
roses with their accompanying apple-green 
muslin leaves, certain long sprays of white 
and silver flowers, which had struck her as 
very lovely, but which, at the time of seeing 
them, had offered confused suggestions to her 
mind of both wedding cakes and funerals, 
and thus had determined her to select the 
gayer wreaths of pink. 


144 


The American Dti chess 


After mature consideration, and the loss of 
a night’s sleep, good old Nan had determined 
that the pink and white sprays would look 
well placed alternately upon the skirt of her 
chef d'oeuvre, and mingled together grace- 
fully upon its bodice and sleeves. Therefore, 
this very afternoon, Pete had departed on his 
mission of procuring them. 

Bessie had sneered rudely when Nan pro- 
posed the flowers, not because she did not 
think they would look fitting and well, but 
because she herself had never possessed a dress 
so lavishly trimmed, having always had to be 
content with the Southern girl’s pretty, plain 
white gown, only relieved by a sash defining 
its short, round waist. 

“Aunt Nan, wouldn’t you like a cup of 
tea and some cake ? ” Kitty leaned further 
over the back of the chair and kissed her 
aunt. 

At the suggestion of refreshments, the 
Colonel’s tired daughters looked up with 
little sighs of relief ; and Kitty turned and 
ordered tea of old Pete, who, with a very 
large cardboard box, now entered the room, 
followed by Bessie. The latter had noted 
the arrival of the box, and was jealously 


Parting 145 

anxious to see its contents. Seating herself 
upon a table, upon which the cutting-out was 
in progress, she swung one foot to and fro, 
whilst she cast a very unsympathetic but 
curious regard over the workers. 

“ So you have got it run up, have you ? ” 

She made this remark indilferently to all 
three. On hearing her words Nan gave a 
disturbed sigh, but went on using her small 
scissors in silence, as did the giil who had 
lately worked the machine. 

“Oh, unpicking it again, are you?” 

No one answered, and Bessie went on swing- 
ing her foot. She had her hair still up in curl- 
papers ; since the departure of the Englishmen 
she had seldom troubled licrsclf to take much 
pains over her toilet, and could De Montfort 
have seen her now, in her soiled and ill-cut 
faded cotton wrapper, he might have had even 
less hope for the future than he already 
possessed. 

Old Pete presently appeared with a tray on 
which were the tea-things and some comfortable 
home-made cake. To the wcaried-out workers 
these appeared most welcome. The two girls 
dropped their scissors, and only Nan continued 
her labour. 


K 


The American Dtichess 


146 

“I tLink I’ll go and bring in Dad,” said 
Kitty. “ Is tliere a cup for him, Pete ? ” 

“ Golly, yes. Miss Kitty/’ grunted the did 
man as he followed her out of the room. In 
five minutes more the father and daughter re- 
turned together. 

“ Well, girls,” said Mr Fauntleroy, cheerily, 
“Pm come iii to see the finery.” 

“Let us see what Pete has brought,” said 
Bessie, and suiting the action to the word, she 
began, with no very careful fingers, tumbling the 
wreaths out of their box. 

“ Take care ! take care ! ” cried Nan, anxiously. 
She had at last laid down her scissors, and sat, 
a piece of cake in one hand and cup of tea in 
the other, her lap still full of muslin, taking 
five minutes’ rest. 

“ I’m sure. Aunt Nan, pink ribbons would 
have been much better,” said Bessie enviously, 
eyeing one of the wreaths which she held in her 
hand. 

Nan paused in drinking her tea to reply. 
“ Yes, but that w'ould not have been full 
dress.” 

Nan was looked upon by the girls as some- 
what of an oracle in such matters, as she had 
once passed a fortnight in New Orleans with 


Partifig 147 

an old aunt who lived in the French quarter ; 
therefore her words carried weight. 

Kitty, sitting quietly beside her father, 
listened, and wished that there had been neither 
wreaths nor ribbons necessary ; for she much 
preferred to these her simple white frock, with 
a few natural blossoms pinned against her 
throat. 

The chill October wind was blowing in stormy 
gusts without, making the great red leaves of 
the oaks come floating down in showers, and 
then gathering them up again and swirling them 
round and round as if in boisterous play. 
Within the house the fires were already 
lighted, and were very welcome to the occu- 
pants. 

Mr Fauntleroy’s old sofa had disappeared 
from the porch with the leaves of the creepers 
twining there, and he was compelled to be 
much indoors. He now sat in the parlour, 
with his thin fingers stretched towards the 
blaze. His face looked worn and anxious, for 
it had cost him no slight pang to finally make 
up his mind to part with Kitt)^ He heard a 
footstep in the hall, and turning, saw Unele 
Tom, wrapped up to his nose, entering the room. 


148 The American Duchess 

“Are you ready, Tom?” 

There was not its usual cheerful ring in 
Mr Fauntleroy’s voice as he turned towards 
his brother. Tom, on the contrary, looked 
beaming with unwonted animation as he replied 
in the affirmative, slapping his hands together 
inside their rough, woollen gloves. 

“ Where’s Kitty ? ” 

“ Here, dear old Dad.” 

The girl, dressed for her journey, came 
quietly into the room and slipped down on to 
a stool in the dark corner by her father’s side. 
She leant her head upon his breast, and 
taking his hands in her little gloved ones, 
kissed his thin fingers fervently. Then poor 
Nan, red-eyed, and with her pocket-handker- 
chief twisted into a hard ball, came in, look- 
ing very unlike her usual cheery, comfortable 
self. Silently she sat down upon a low chair 
facing the other two, and presently two tears, 
making little silver rivers on her fiorid cheeks, 
rolled downwards, to fall unnoticed upon her 
hands, which tightly held the handkerchief 
ball. Poor old Nan, gazing timidly across 
the hearth, silent, and with her tear-stained 
face, appeared the image of grief and de- 
spair. 


Parting 1 49 

They all sat thus for about five minutes. 
Then Uncle Tom, who had gone to help Pete 
get out the buggy with its old white horse, 
came back. 

“All’s ready,” he called out, coming to the 
door and lookiug in. Turning to Nan, he 
said, “ Are there any more bundles. Nan ? ” 

Nan roused herself, and, rising, went slowly 
to see if all was right. 

“Mind, Tom, that this box is kept turned 
this side up ; there’s some books in the bottom, 
and Kitty’s ball dress is on top, so it’ll never 
do to get it upside down.” 

The simple creature knew naught of porters 
and their ways, and she looked solicitously at 
the tray less box which contained such ill- 
assorted companions as heavy books and a 
delicate white muslin dress. Kitty now ap- 
peared, sobbing bitterly, but quietly. She 
threw herself on Nan’s broad breast, and the 
two had to be forced apart by good old Tom, 
whose own cheeks were wet, but who knew 
enough to be aware that “tides and trains 
wait for no man.” Taking Kitty in his arms, 
he lifted her as if she had been a child into 
the old buggy, then jumped in himself. The 
cart with the trunks had already started, and 


150 The American Duchess 

was, with much creaking, wending its way to 
the little depot beside the Swannanoa. 

“Uncle Tom, what has the train stopped for? 
Uncle Tom. . . 

Tom stopped himself in the midst of a pro- 
longed snore, finishing it up with a jerk 

“ Eh, what, Kitty ! Stopped ? ” 

In a moment he had roused himself sufficiently 
to understand her, and was looking out into the 
darkness beyond the track. Kitty looked into 
his kindly brown face with a sigh of relief. 
The train had stopped, that was true, but she 
was unaware of any danger in the fact ; she 
had been awake all these long hours, too 
excited even to close her eyes ; visions of 
home made the solitude very painful to her, 
and she was thankful to have an excuse for 
waking up Uncle Tom. The latter went out- 
side to ascertain what the cause of the stoppage 
was. He soon returned, saying that there had 
been some slight breakage, and that the train 
must remain there on the side of a mountain 
until the guard could walk back some four 
miles, and telegraph for another engine. 

“Wouldn’t you like somctliing to eat, 
Kitty ? ” he said, kindly, searching for the 


Parting 1 5 1 

big hamper in which Nan had bestowed 
enough provisions to feed half a regiment. 
“ Take a pull at this ; ” Tom drew from his 
pocket a flask of old rye. Kitty refused this, 
however, saying she would rather have some 
milk. 

“All right, Kit, but that’s a poor sort of a 
drink to begin a journey on,” 

Tom’s last word was partly smothered by the 
putting of the flask between his own lips. 
The drink did him good. He began to realise 
how pleasant a thing it was to be sent, as 
Kitty’s escort, all the way to New York City, 
which he had never seen ; and in particular, 
that the trip was to cost him nothing. Poor 
old Tom ! 


CHAPTER VIII 


NEW YORK 

O fair young mother ! on thy brow 

Shall sit a nobler grace than now. 

Deep in the brightness of thy skies 

The thronging years in glory rise, 

And, as they fleet, 

Drop strength an 1 riches at thy feet.” 

William Cullen Bryant, 

“Beg pardon, sir, but this young lady is 
Miss Fauntleroy, is she not ? ” 

The neat person spoke with a slight French 
accent, and looked from Uncle Tom to Kitty 
as she did so. 

“Yes, I am,” answered Kitty, quietly, see- 
ing that poor old Tom seemed rather to have 
lost his head in all the noise and confusion 
of people running in every direction at once, 
and in the strong glare of the electric lights, 
which seemed to dazzle his unaccustomed 
sight. 


152 


New York 


153 


“The carriage is waiting, miss, if you will 
follow me,” the maid went on obsequiously. 
“ How many trunks are there, sir ? If j'ou 
will please give up the checks to the footman, 
he will attend to them.” 

Tom began unbuttoning his overcoat in a 
hunt for the inside pocket in which the checks 
were. After some searching and much 
fumbling they were found, and handed to the 
servant in waiting. Uncle Tom, who had 
never been further than Charleston had never 
seen a “ plush ” before gotten up after the 
e.vtreme of English fashion, and hardly, in 
the confusion of his sudden arrival in the 
midst of the lights and noise, knew what to 
make of this creature in silk stockings ami 
powdered hair, covered with silver lace. How- 
ever, dear old Tom, though a very rough 
diamond, was a gentleman, and did not 
permit his surprise to be evident ; he felt a 
little like knocking the creature down when, 
in an Irish voice, but with a very English 
accent indeed, it minced out something about 
“The luggage.” Then the little procession 
moved out of the depot in search of old IMr-! 
Van Eyck’s carriage. 

Kitty entered it, and poor Uncle Tom was 


154 The American Duchess 

about to follow her, when the maid interposed 
with, — ■' 

“ You must excuse me, sir, but Mrs Van 
Eyck desired me to ask you to excuse her, 
as her house is full, and for me to tell you 
that there is a very good hotel, called the 
‘Murray Hill,’ close by, sir. Would you like 
James to call a cab to take you there, sir ? ” 

“ Oil, Uncle Tom, I cannot go without 
you,” almost sobbed Kitty, in her distress at 
this speech. 

Poor old Tom stood irresolute, his foot on 
the step of the carriage and his hand on the 
door. Kitty saw his handsome, kindly face 
fall, as his deep eyes regarded her with the 
full light of an electric lamp upon him. He 
hesitated a moment, and then, withdrawing 
his hand from the door and stepping back, 
he said, — 

“ No, dear, you must do what your grand- 
mother wishes. I guess I shall be very 
comfortable at the hotel, and I shall come 
around and see you to-morrow morning. 
Good-night,” he added, trying to get up 
some semblance of a smile, and drawing close 
po the carriage again he took Kitty’s little 
outstretched hand, whicli treipbled as it lay 


New York 


155 

in his, and felt very cold even through the 
glove. 

“ Good-night, dear Uncle Tom.: . . 

A sob prevented her from being able to 
continue, and Tom, hurrying the lady’s maid 
into the opposite seat of the carriage, closed 
the door quickly, and turned to get into the 
cab which the footman had secured, and upon 
which had been placed his own baggage. 

“ What do you say. Smith ? ” 

“ The carriage has returned, my lady, and 
the young lady is here.” 

“Well, Smith, get her dressed — she won’t 
be fit to be seen in her country clothes — and 
then bring her in here. I can talk to her 
whilst you dress me for the ball. Tell Marie 
to study my grand-daughter’s complexion, and 
then put her into a tea - gown. The child 
needn’t put anything more formal on to come 
up here. But do not let Marie make any 
mistake about the colours, and be sure to get 
her hair properly arranged.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

The elderly and trusted lady’s maid was 
moving quickly and silently towards the door, 
her footsteps falling poiseless upop the rich 


156 The American Duchess 

carpet, and she was about to lift the heavy 
silken portiere, when Mrs Van Eyck called 
after her in a high, cracked, unsympathetic 
voice, — 

Smith ! ” 

“ Yes, my lady.” 

“ Make the child eat something ; she won’t 
be fit to be seen on an empty stomach.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

This time Smith was allowed to leave the 
room without further orders from her mistress, 
vvho, since she had first spent a season in 
London, where she had been the guest of a 
countess, had always insisted upon her servants 
addressing her as “ my lady.” “ It sounds 
a much more fitting mode of speaking to 
their superiors,” was the method in whieh 
she usually explained this usage to a new 
acquaintance. It came to , pass, therefore, 
that she was known in society by this appella- 
tion amongst its youthful and less respectful 
members. The old lady was seated now, 
wrapped in a magnificent peignoir of heavy 
yellow satin brocade covered with cascades 
of rich old lace. Diamonds sparkled on her 
fingers and drew the laces together at her 
throat — the latter had once been beautiful, 


New York 


157 


but was so no longer, owing to her thinness 
and advanced age. Her dark eyes, however, 
retained their brilliancy, and her limbs their 
youthful activity. Tall and very slender, 
many a young girl might have envied her 
her energy and powers of endurance. 

She was seated now before a crackling wood 
fire, in the most -comfortable of fauteuils, the 
latest French novel upon her knee ; a cup of 
cafe noir upon a dainty little table at her 
elbow, upon which also lay the evening papers 
unopened. 

When the maid had disappeared, silently 
behind the silken portiere, the old lady drew 
up her rich skirts a little, displaying a very 
small and exquisitely slippered foot, which 
emerged from under the lace ruffles, and set 
itself firmly upon the edge of the gilded 
fender; then, taking up her French novel, 
she opened it at the page where she had left 
off. She turned her attention upon the 
printed page but, somehow it did not seem 
to interest her ; the characters danced before 
her, and her hands dropped quietly upon 
her lap, whilst unconsciously her eyes filled 
with a far-away look, and fixed themselves 
upon the fire before her, between which and 


158 The American Duchess 

herself, for greater comfort, a glass screen 
was placed. Sitting thus, she would have 
been called a very lovely old lady, had it not 
been for a certain sternness in the lines about 
her mouth, and the hard brilliancy of her 
eyes, which no tears came to dim, even though 
memory was conjuring up before them a 
vision of her daughter’s beseeching eyes and 
tear-stained face as they had appeared when 
the girl stood pleading for ungianted mercy 
before her in this selfsame room, twenty 
years ago. 

Kitty subsided, crying quietly, into her 
corner of the carriage as she drove off, leav- 
ing Uncle Tom to the pleasures of a strange 
hotel in this great and, to him, unknown 
metropolis. She felt very sad indeed, and 
was hardly comforted when Marie urged her 
to cheer up, saying, with her unfamiliar 
French accent, “That milady was very good, 
and that Miss Fauntleroy would, without 
doubt, shortly be the most feted young lady 
in New York society.” Seeing that her 
words had not the desired effect, she went on, 
“ And there is the duke, too. . . .” 

“ I hate him ! ” cried Kitty, passionately. 


New York 


159 

“ Do not talk to me about him ! I won’t 
speak to him if I do meet him.” 

After this rebuff Marie subsided into silence, 
and the carriage, rolling quickly up Fifth 
Avenue, soon stopped at a magnificent corner 
house, which extended itself all along the 
block in the side street almost to Madison 
Avenue. In a moment its great doors were 
thrown open, and Kitty was assisted to alight. 
A dry powder of snow was upon the ground, 
the first of the season, and, as it crunched 
under her feet, it recalled to memory peace- 
ful reminiscences of her mountain home in 
winter, making the tears almost start anew. 

In a moment more she had ascended the 
high stoop, and found her feet burying them- 
selves deep in the heavy Persian carpets 
which covered the cold marble floor. 

“ If you will step this way, miss.” 

Marie advanced deferentially before her 
young lady towards the wide curving stair- 
case, which, dimly lighted, and having great 
banks of rich hot-house flowers upon its land- 
ings, appeared, to Kitty’s unaccustomed sight, 
a ladder of dreams leading to the recesses 
of some enchanted palace. 

She followed the maid up its easy ascent. 


i6o The American Duchess 

and passing the rooms appropiiated to her 
grandmother’s use, she went down a corridor 
to a suite upon the same floor designed for 
her own occupation. Kitty noted the delicious 
warmth throughout this Fifth Avenue palace, 
heavily scented, as it was, with the odours of 
the lovely flowers wdiich she met with every- 
where. “ Flowers, and such flowers, in 
winter ! ” Kitty, intoxicated with their magic 
perfumes, had almost forgotten that this was 
reality, and not some delicious dream. She 
was doomed soon to be awakened, however. 

Marie, going forward, threw open the door 
of a boudoir, and pushing aside the portifere 
she invited Kitty to enter. This room was 
as luxurious as all the rest of the house. 
Kitty,, standing in its centre, and looking 
towards the bright wood fire, realised how 
beautiful its delicate colourings were ; its 
dainty furniture and hangings, and lovely 
hric-h-hrac scattered upon little tables, and 
what especially pleased her were some great 
white bear - skins forming a hearth-rug, an<l 
also thrown here and there upon the velvet 
carpet. She thought to herself that her grand- 
mother, after all, must be very kind, and full 
of thought for her and care for for her comfoit. 


New York i6i 

and bocaine almost grateful to her. She also 
comforted herself with the thought that she 
would soon return to her father ; that this 
was only a visit, and soon — very soon — she 
would be permitted to go back to her 
mountain home, and to all the dear circle 
therein. 

Her reverie was interrupted by Marie speak- 
ing about her baggage to the footmen wl;o 
now appeared with it. Kitty turned and 
watched them carrying to her dressing-room 
beyond the plain, rough corded box which 
dear Aunt Nan had shown such solicitude 
over. She felt the incongruity of that dear 
homely - looking box and the two silken - 
stockinged footmen who carried it between 
them. Marie ordered them to take the cord 
off, and after they had brought in a rug- 
strap, the great hamper with its remnants 
and ruins of good Nan s cheer, and also, un- 
fortunately, the hatbox which contained poor 
old Uncle Tonfs best high silk hat, bought in 
Charlestown before Kitty’s birth, used only 
on very rare and solemn occasions, and con- 
served with the greatest care by its owner. 
A pang of distress seized Kitty’s mind as she 
recognised this hatbox, and she longed to 
L 


1 62 The American Duchess 

command tlie smart maid to have it sent to 
Uncle Tom, but felt shy of giving orders to 
this strange person. 

“ Might I have the ke}'s, miss, and I will lay 
out your things. Would you like a warm bath? 
It would refresh you after your long journey. 
I have it drawn ready, and if 5’ou will come 
this way I will show you your bedroom, and 
the bathroom beyond.” 

All the rooms opened into each other, as 
well as each upon the corridor without ; Kitty 
passed through them, and the sense of being in 
a dream began to return to her. She entered 
her bedroom and went thence to the dressing- 
room, with its charming bathroom beyond. In 
the dressing-room Marie offered to relieve her 
of her simple thick cloth jacket and her plain 
black velvet turban, but Kitty preferred helping 
herself ; and drawing off her heavy worsted 
gloves, began to remove her hat. 

“Will you please give me the keys, miss?” 

“ Thank you,” said Kitty, independently, “ I 
shall unpack my box myself. I know where 
to find the things ; and you may go now.” 

Before Marie could recover from her sur- 
prise the boudoir door opened, and a footman 
appeared carrying a chocolate service upon a 


Neiv York 


163 

silver tray. Marie, turning to Kitty, asked 
her if she would like to drink a cup of the 
beverage before having her bath, and the foot- 
man, placing his burden upon a little table 
beside the fire, left the room again. 

The sight of the chocolate was most welcome 
to tired Kitty. Pulling off her jacket she 
seated herself beside the fire, and Marie, 
though she had not asked her to do so, began 
pouring out her chocolate. 

“ Do you take much sugar, miss ? It is 
sweet.” She handed the cup to Kitty. 
Suddenly, as she was drinking the chocolate, 
Kitty remembered that all this time she had 
seen nothing of her grandmother. 

“Where is my grandmother?” she asked 
abruptly. 

Marie seemed slightly nonplussed. “ I 
beg your pardon, miss, but she will receive 
you as soon as you have made your toilet.” 

Marie turned and busied herself in the room 
beyond, leaving Kitty to contrast painfully 
this welcome of her grandmother with that 
which she would have had from her father. 
Then her thoughts turned sorrowfully to 
Uncle Tom in his strange surroundings, and 
she wondered what he might be doing, and 


164 The American Duchess 

wlietlier lie had had a good supper. Her 
chocolate and bread and butter finished, she 
rose to go into her bedroom ; in doing so, she 
glanced into the mirror, and to her great 
surprise she noticed that her usually fair and 
brilliant skin looked dark and clouded. In- 
voluntarily touching it with her little fingers, 
she looked at them and saw that they were 
black. Horrified at this discovery, she gave 
a little cry which brought Marie to her aid, 
who, seeing what had occurred, said, — 

“ You always find that after a train journey, 
miss ; but your bath will soon make you 
comfortable.” 

“Very well,” responded Kitty; “if you will 
leave me, I shall take it.” 

“ Wouldn’t you like me to lay your linen out 
first, miss ? ” 

“ No, thank you. Go.” 

Then Marie disappeared, going to the lower 
regions, where she informed the other domestics 
that her young lady appeared nothing but a 
savage, and, especially, did not understand the 
uses of a lady’s maid. 

Kitty, taking out her keys, opened her box — 
it V as hardly to be called a trunk — and lifting 
its lid saw a painful sight. The books some- 


New York 


165 

liow had got loose and come uppermost, and 
could be perceived mingled with the crushed 
remains of poor old Nan’s chef cl’cBUvre. The 
dress which had lain so magnificently spread 
out upon the top of everything, with nothing 
whatever to crush it, so long as the box stood 
upon its bottom, now remained a mangled 
mass ; at one side, the books wedging it 

down, and fiattening all the wreaths, which 

had been, at once, poor Nan’s pride and 

delight, till they looked like old and much- 
used cake ornaments. 

A mist came before Kitty’s sight as she 
stooped to lift out the precious robe. “Poor 
old Nan ! was this the result of all her 

thought and labour ? ” Kitty had sunk down 
upon the carpet beside the unfortunate box, 
with the white dress and some of the books 
spread around her, her hand fell listless in 
her lap, and her mind brimmed over with sad 
thoughts. Suddenly, the pretty clock upon 

the mantel began to chime the half hour, 
and was answered by companions in the other 
rooms. Kitty gave a start, and remembered 
that, much as she would like to retire, she 
must yet dress and make her appearance 
before her grandmother. Selecting some linen 


The American Dnchess 


1 66 

and a soft house dress of dark blue, she arose 
and went to the bathroom. 

• •••••«• • 

“ You may take me to my grandmother now.” 

Kitty had summoned Marie to give her 
this command. 

“But, miss, excuse me, Mrs Van Eyck — ” 
she commenced, rather timitlly, being a little 
afraid of the girl’s calm eyes fixed upon her 
— “Mrs Van Eyck has given orders for me 
to dress 3mur hair, and she would be pleased 
if you would put on this tea-gown.” 

As she spoke, she opened a great wardrobe, 
and lifted down a most exquisite “confection,” 
as she would have called it, covered with soft 
laces. Kitty standing, robed in her neat, 
quiet gown of sombre blue, with its collar 
closing round her pretty throat, and long 
sleeves buttoning to the wrists, regarded 
gravely the extraordinary mass of delicate 
silks now being displayed to the utmost 
advantage by her maid. It was as if a 
little brown linnet contemplated the plumage 
of some magnificent peacock or bird of 
paradise. 

“Is that a ball-dress?” she demanded, 
unmoved. 


New York 


167 

“Dear me, no, mi^s. It’s a simple tea- 
gown, and here is the long-trained silk jnpe 
to go with it ; these lace ruffles set out the 
train of the tea-gown beautifully,” she went 
on, thinking, with terror, of old Mrs Van 
Eyck and her orders, and trembling to see 
how little inclined the brown linnet appeared 
to endow herself with the peacock’s plumes. 
“May I ask you to let me dress your hair, 
first, before you put this on?” she went on 
tentatively. 

“No, you may not,” returned Kitty, 
decidedly. “ Please take me to my grand- 
mother immediately.” 

“But, miss . . began the unfortunate 
lady’s maid, trembling for her good wages 
which she fancied she saw disappearing in 
thin mist. 

“Take me to my grandmother.” 

The order was so peremptorily given that 
the woman had no choice but to obey. With 
her face white, and limbs trembling under 
her, she turned towards the door. 

Glancing backwards as they were leaving 
the room, Kitty saw beyond the door of the 
dressing - room a forlorn, white object still 
lying upon the earpet. 


i68 


The American Duchess 


“ Wait tliere a moment,” she said, motion- 
ing to the Frenchwoman to stay in the 
corridor ; then turned back gently, to gather 
up and entomb poor old Nan’s work in her 
box. She had seen what they called “ a 
simple tea - gown,” and felt that she would 
rather die than permit unsympathetic eyes 
to look upon, and sneering lips comment 
over, her poor wreck, product of so much 
labour and affectionate thought. Turning 
the key securely in the lock, she rose and 
went to join her maid. 

“Miss, would you be so kind as to let me 
call Mrs, Smith, so that she will know you 
are coming. AVill you take this seat for a 
moment ? ” 

Marie’s eyes looked so imploringly into 
Kitty’s face that the latter concluded to let 
her do as she liked, and, seating herself, 
waited. 

Marie hastily tried to explain to Smith 
that her young lady had a will of her own, 
and Smith must try to, for her part, explain 
the situation as best she could to Mrs Van 
Eyck. 


New York 


169 


“ What is this, Smith ? ” 

The old lady regarded her grand-daughter 
with a stony stare, making no effort to bid 
her welcome. 

“ Excuse me, my lady — ” began Smith, then 
turned an appealing face towards Kitty. 

“ Did I not give strict orders that she was 
to be decently dressed and her hair arranged?” 

The old lady’s voice raised itself in her wrath 
till it reminded Kitty of the squeaks of the 
rats at home in the old barn. She saw the 
fear depicted on Smith’s face, but remained 
calm and immovable herself. 

“ Grandmother,” she began quietly, “ I pre- 
ferred wearing my own gown. Marie asked 
me to have my hair dressed and put on that 
tea-gowm, but I had rather not, thank you.” 

“ What ! ” almost shrieked the old woman, 
and Marie, listening at the key-hole, paled. 
“ What ! am I to be defied in my own house 
by a chit of a child ? What ! — ” 

She had risen, and stood literally gasping 
with suppressed rage, supporting herself by 
the mantelpiece. 

“ Grandmother, I never intended to defy 
— 

“ Go at once and do as I bid you, then,” 


170 The American Duchess 

The old voice broke on the high notes, and 
Kitty again remembered the rats. Smith looked 
fearfully at her mistress. She knew that these 
violent fits of passion were very bad for the 
old woman. 

“Dear grandmother,” said the girl gently, 
surpised to perceive how much the old lady 
had set her heart upon what, to her, appeared 
a frivolous piece of nonsense, “ I had no idea 
you really wished this, or I would have, of 
course, done it.” 

As she spoke, she raised her lovely eyes 
to her grandmother’s face. Something in the 
tones of her voice and the expression of her 
eyes recalled the face in the fire to the other’s 
mind, and she softened. Stretching out her 
withered old hand towards the girl, she said, — 

“ Come here, child ; you are very beautiful. 
Let me see you more in the light.” 

As the girl stood beside her, she looked at 
her silently. Then, seeming again to take 
ofiTence at the simple frock, she said quickly, — 

“ Go tq bed, my dear,” Kitty’s heart gave 
a leap of relief. “No, stay. Let me see you 
once properly dressed, and then I can better 
consider what your possibilities are.” She 
added this last in a business-like manner, as 


New York 1 7 1 

if she was speaking of some purchase she 
intended making. 

Ten minutes later Kitty returned to her 
grandmother’s room. Her hair was massed 
up high upon her head — she had done it 
herself, with two or three twists of her wrist 
and a slight rumpling of its wavy golden 
masses with her deft little fingers. Then the 
linnet had robed herself in the plumage of the 
peacock, and as a jewel in an exquisite setting 
she now appeared, metamorphosed and most 
lovely before her grandmother’s delighted 
eyes. 

“I think,” said the old lady enthusiastically, 
“you are literally the most beautiful creature 
I have ever seen ! Smith, order the carriage 
back to the stables ; I shall not go out to- 
night. No, my dear,” she added, turning 
again to Kitty, “ I want to study you. What 
a triumph I shall have ! The duke must 
certainly see that you are lovelier than all 
the others put together ! ” 

Poor little Kitty, yearning for love and 
affection, found herself being considered in 
the category of a mere chattel, a creature to 
b^ put up for sale like any fair Georgian 


172 The American Duchess 

slave. She shuddered as she looked at the 
eager old face before her, with its brilliant, 
greedy eyes and the hard lines about the 
mouth. 

The old woman saw the shudder and 
said, — 

“ I hope you are not cold,” Then fear 
that this might be the case, and perhaps 
pneumonia might supervene, and spoil all her 
ambitious plans, she called hastily to Smith 
to take the girl to bed and not to leave her 
till she had seen her warm and comfortable. 
“Give her some hot wine and water !” was 
her command called after Smith as the latter 
closed the door. 

Poor little Kitty’s head sank wearily upon 
the down cushions of her bed. Smith was 
closing the delicate lace and satin curtains 
about her to keep oT impossible draughts. 
The wine and water had been drunk, and the 
girl was thinking, with an aching heart, .of 
home and its simple habits. Her father’s face 
came before her, with its pathetic eyes and 
thin cheeks. Turning upon her luxurious 
pillows, the girl wept bitterly. 

Mrs Van Eyck was seated before her 


New York 


173 


dressing-room fire, whilst Smith brushed the 
remains of her once handsome hair. She was 
in ' special good humour, and seemed to have 
quite pardoned the episode of her grand- 
daughter’s appearance before her in her simple 
country frock. 

“ See that Madame Eliza sends to-morrow 
at eleven to take the orders for Miss Fauntle- 
roy’s gowns. Send for Redfern, too.” 

“ Yes, my lady.” 

The clock was striking eleven in the 
neighbourhood of Uncle Tom’s hotel. With 
the two windows of his bedroom thrown 
wide open upon the night he stood, the 
curiosity of a child expressed in his dark eyes, 
watching the vain efforts of a porter to turn 
off the steam register. 

“They do say New York is a pretty bad 
place,” smiled Uncle Tom, quietly. “ I guess 
you all find it kinder wise to keep the heat up 
ter biling p’int, so as ter be a sorter prepared for 
the sweet by-and-by ; but darn me if I can 
stand it, anyhow.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE DUKE 

“ Thus her heart rejoices greatly 
Till a gateway she discerns, 

With armorial bearings stately 
And beneath the gate she turns ; 

And while now she wonders blindly, 

Nor the meaning can divine, 

Proudly turns he round and kindly, 

‘All of this is mine and thine.’ 

Here he lives in state and bounty, 

Lord of Burleigh, fair and free, 

Not a lord in all the country 
Is so great a lord as he.” 

Alfred Tennyson. 

“ Your breakfast, miss, which Mrs Van 
Eyck has ordered served here in your rooms ; 
she always has hers in bed, and there are no 
other visitors in the house at present.” 

Kitty raised her pretty brows in surprise. 

“ I thought you told Uncle Tom last night 
that the house was full ? Isn’t it ? ” 

Marie endeavoured to cover her confusion 
with a cough. 


174 


The Duke 


175 


"Wasn’t that true?” persisted Kitty, and 
looked like an accusing angel at the delin- 
quent maid. 

"Excuse me, miss, but I have to obey 
orders. Would you like me to post those 
letters ? ” she hurriedly continued, seeing a 
sheaf which Kitty had written lying upon 
the table. But Kitty continued, nothing 
daunted, — 

“ Then there was room for poor Uncle Tom 
after all ? ” 

" I’m sure I don’t know, miss ; my lady is 
not very strong, and I don’t suppose she feels 
equal to entertaining gentlemen. . . .” 

“ But I thought you said she was going 
to give a ball on Thursday ? ” 

" Yes, miss ; in honour of you, miss. And 
Madame Eliza has your dress all made, but 
only to fit on the waist.” 

Before more could be said, the door of the 
boudoir opened and a footman entered, and 
commenced arranging a dainty breakfast for 
Kitty. 

"My lady told me to tell, you, miss,” went 
on the maid, "that anything you wished for 
you were to tell me to get for you.” 

"Thank you,” answered the girl coldly. She 


The American Dtichess 

was tlnnldng of her own and Uncle Tom’s 
lonely breakfasts, and wondering how it was 
she was prevented from having him with 
her. 

Kitty had finished her solitary breakfast, 
and was just about to leave the table when 
the door opened and Uncle Tom entered. 

“ Oh, Uncle Tom ! ” 

Kitty’s voice sounded a note of relief and 
happiness. Kunning towards him, she threw 
her arms round his neck, and kissed his 
weatherbeaten brown face rapturously. 

“ Oh Uncle Tom ! Uncle Tom ! ” Then 
taking his rough stick from him, and gently 
removing his old black soft felt hat from his 
head, leaving his abundant black hair some- 
what ruffied by the operation, she was about 
to turn from him when her joy at seeing his 
familiar face again overcame her, and, still 
with the stick and hat in her hands, she again 
threw her arms around him and kissed him 
fervently. “Dear old Uncle Tom, I am so 
glad to see you ! ” Turning towards the table 
she went on, “Have you breakfasted? Shall 
I ring and get you some hot coffee ? ” 

But Tom had breakfasted an hour before, 


The Duke 


177 


and needed nothing more. Eemoving his 
warm brown overcoat, he glanced about him, 
at the different pretty objects in the room, 
and said, with a smile of satisfaction, to 
Kitty,— 

“You’re pretty nicely fixed here, dear; I 
hope you like your grandmother ? She seems 
kind to provide all this elegant place for 
you.” 

“ Yes,” answered the girl, indifferently, “ but 
tell me how you get on at that strange hotel. 
I cannot bear your being there,” she added 
quickly 

Seeing his pet vexed, Tom put his hand 
upon her shining hair, and looked down affec- 
tionately in her fair, upturned face. 

“ Don’t you fuss, Kitty ; I’m fine over there.” 
Then remembering the steam register, he added, 
“That’s to say if they don’t roast me to death. 
’Pears to me that they' do keep the houses 
too hot up here.” 

“Ah!” laughed Kitty, “now I understand. 
Never mind, dear Uncle Tom, we’ll go out 
together and see the city. Would you like 
to go at once ? ” she asked rather wistfully. 

“Why, yes, certainly,” he exclaimed, in his 
hearty Southern manner, “You don’t worry 
M 


178 The American Duchess 

about me, but get your bonnet on right 
away.” 

Kitty ran away, her happy face glowing 
with satisfaction, leaving the door of the 
dressing-room open behind her. Uncle Tom, 
meanwhile, moved about examining every- 
thing with an expression of much content- 
ment upon his kind, brown face. Presently 
his peregrinations brought him to the door of 
the dressing-room. Looking in, he caught sight 
of his cherished hatbox. 

“Why, Kit,” he exclaimed, joyfully, “after 
all, you’ve got my hat ; I was kinder sure it 
was lost.” Then he said innocently, “ I think 
I had better get it out, and wear it to go out 
in the city with you.” 

As Kitty stood putting on her thick woollen 
gloves, she watched him unfasten the beloved 
package ; it was done up in heavy brown 
paper, and tied with string. Uncle Tom had 
been careful to keep it near him during the 
journey, and only the confusion of their arrival 
in New York could have caused him to let 
it out of his sight. Now, he rubbed the nap 
the right way with his coat sleeve twice, and 
looked with satisfaction to see that there were 
no dints in its shining surface. In a few 


The Duke 


179 


moments more lie was ready to accompany 
Kitty on a voyage of discovery through the 
city. 

Eleven o’clock had come and passed — twelve 
also. Mrs Van Eyck sat in a solemn conclave 
with the dressmakers over stuffs, designs 
and Paris models. Smith, standing respect- 
fully in the background, gave her opinion 
only when her lady appealed to her 
for it. 

Meanwhile Kitty and simple old Uncle Tom 
had wandered away to Central Park to see 
the animals, neither of them taking any heed 
of the hours, nor thinking of the necessity for 
returning. At one o’clock they began to feel 
very hungry, and for the first time Kitty 
thought of luncheon. 

“ Oh, Uncle Tom, what will my grandmother 
say ? She may be waiting dinner for us.” She 
turned her lovely blue eyes upon Tom, and the 
two looked at one another much as truant 
children might have done on perceiving that 
discovery was imminent. 

“ I do feel very hungry,” admitted Tom, 
sheepishly. 

“ Well, we’ll ask that man over there to 


i8o The American Duchess 

direct us, and get back home as fast as we 
can,” was Kitty’s practical reply. 

“ Kitty ! ” 

“ How do you do, ma’am ? ” 

Mrs Van Eyck was just leaving the luncheon- 
room as the other two entered the great hall. 
Without taking any notice of Uncle Tom’s 
salute, nor, indeed, appearing to perceive that 
he was there at all, the old lady, with head 
held high and cold, unbending brows, turned 
severely upon Kitty. 

“ My dear, I must tell you that young 
ladies in society do not go running about in 
all sorts of extraordinary places without their 
chaperones ...” 

“But 1 had Uncle Tom,” interpolated Kitty. 

“My dear,” the old voice grew shriller as 
Mrs Van Eyck’s anger visibly increased, “a 
gentleman is hardly a proper person . . .” 

“ Well, ma’am, she . . .” began poor Tom. 

“ Pardon me, sir.” For the first time the 
old woman turned towards him, and her eyes 
glared with such a terrible light that Tom 
quailed again, and a cold shiver passed down 
his broad back at sight of her. He prudently 
remained silent for the rest of the interview. 


The Duke 


“ Understand, Kittj, tliat as long as you are 
under my roof you cannot leave the house 
without my permission. Now, as I wish to 
drive you to Madame Elisa’s at three, you 
had better let Marie get you your luncheon 
in your own rooms, and she will dress you 
afterwards.” 

Having thus made Kitty understand that 
all freedom was denied to her, the old lady 
turned to unfortunate Uncle Tom, and said, 
in her coldest tones, — 

“ You will pardon me, sir, but you will 
understand that my grand-daughter is now 
in my charge. Good-morning.” 

Even to simple old Tom there was no doubt 
of this being a speech of dismissal. It was 
difficult to turn away with an empty stomach 
from the sight he had of the delicious and 
abundant luncheon, which he could perceive 
through the open door of the dining-room ; 
but there was no help for it. Turning 
towards Kitty he was about to wish her 
“Good-bye,” when she interrupted him im- 
pulsively, by saying, — 

“Dear grandmother. Uncle Tom is very 
hungry.” The old lady’s brow drew them- 
selves into a harder line. Kitty perceived the 


i 82 


The American Duchess 


sign, but continued valiantly, “Please let 
us lunch together in there ? ” pointing to the 
dining-room. 

Instead of replying to this question, the old 
lady turned upon Tom and demanded, — 

“ A¥hen do you intend to return home, sir?” 

“ In a few days, ma’am — when I have seen 
something of York.” 

The old woman was softening a little ; some- 
thing in Uncle Tom’s frank eyes pleased her, 
when, suddenly, she perceived his hat, that 
“object” as she spoke of it, later, to Kitty, 
decided her. If people did not understand 
the art of dress, they could not expect her to 
invite them to her house. 

“ You must excuse me, Mr Fauntleroy,” she 
said, coldly, “ but I have to take Kitty out.” 
Bowing to Tom, she turned away, saying, 
“ Come, Kitty.” 

Kitty, greatly distressed, stood wringing her 
little hands together. 

“Good-bye, dear,” said Tom, quietly, longing 
to comfort her and kiss away the tears which 
he saw standing in her clear, innocent eyes. 
He held out his hand. Seeing Mrs Van Eyck’s 
back turned, Kitty flew into his arms for a 
ptoment, saying hurriedly, — 


“Don’t worry, dear Undo Tom. Come in 
the morning early, before she’s up, and we 
can at least chat together.” 

Kissing him warmly, she turned and ran 
lightly up the stairs after her tall, elegant 
grandmother. 

The next three days passed away in a 
whirl for Kitty. All was in confusion, and 
the house had been given over into the 
hands of the decorators, though how they 
could make it more lovely than it was 
already Kitty failed to imagine. Her grand- 
mother had been very kind to her, loading 
her with rich presents and beautiful clothing. 
Perceiving that Kitty had a will of her 
own, the old lady thought best to coax rather 
than attempt to control her. She knew that 
only by this means could she hope to 
influence the girl, and the latter would, 
later, have it in her power, perhaps, either 
to fulfil or destroy the ambitious dreams 
with which she had indulged herself ever 
since she had heard of the coming visit of 
this English duke. For the last two weeks 
society had been in a ferment over his 
visit, and h§ and his friend, Lord Inver- 


184 


The American Duchess 


ness, wore being feted and entertained by 
everybody. 

Poor Kitty was tired of hearing his praises 
from everyone who met her grandmother, and 
was determined to hate him lator when she 
should meet him. She was not very happy, 
for she had hardly seen poor Uncle Tom since 
their morning in Central Park together. She 
had asked her grandmother whether he was 
coming to the ball, but could not obtain any 
decided answer from the old lady. On the 
evening of the day before the ball, she stood 
in her boudoir*, her elegantly-shod little foot 
extended towards the fire, and she, herself 
looking downwards into its comforting blaze. 
She had just returned from driving with Mrs 
Van Eyck in the Park, and had not yet 

taken off her handsome furs. To-day was the 
first time she had seen the Park since her 

visit there with Tom, and she could not help 
contrasting the two, thinking that they were 
as unlike one another as was her simple 

/ country costume with the magnificent furs 
of which she now commenced disemharrassing 
herself. 

“ Please, miss, your uncle called and left 
this for you,” said Marie, taking from -her 


The Duke^ 185 

the furs, and handing her 'a note hastily 
penned by Tom on finding her out. 

The note contained a letter to Tom from 
Kitty’s father, and the former thought it 
would please her to bring it to her. Telling 
Marie to give her some tea, Kitty coiled 
herself up in a large, low fauteuil to read 
the missive. She had received one from her 
father, herself, that morning, and she found 
that the one she now read was but a replica 
of her own, except that there was a postscript 
in which her father told of the long-delayed 
arrival of Will Bell from Texas. “We think 
he will cheer up Bessie, who has seemed very 
dull and low-spirited lately,” he wrote. 

The letter read, Kitty remained dreamily 
gazing into the fire, made sleepy by its 
warmth. She wished she had not missed 
Uncle Tom. Visions of her father and home 
floated mistily before her, and she seemed to 
hear good Nan calling her. Five minutes 
later, Marie, coming softly in with the tea, 
found her sleeping peacefully, the letter 
fallen from her hand upon the carpet. 

“ I’ll let her be,” the latter thought, setting 
down the tea. “How beautiful she is.” 

Marie stood regarding the sleeping girl 


1 86 The American Duchess 

with admiration. She was beginning to feel 
the charm which Kitty exercised over all she 
met, and to like her young lady. Besides, 
the lady’s-maid had ambitions, and would 
Irave been well pleased to be in the service 
of a duchess — the gossips of the servants’ 
hall seemed to think that the duke must, 
of necessity, fall in love with . Kitty the 
moment of his presentation to her — and thus 
Marie had hopes of possible future advance- 
ment, and surely, if so, of a sight of her 
beloved Paris once more. 

Kitty continued to sleep, innocently un- 
aware of all the schemes of which she was 
the centre, from her own grandmother down 
to her French maid. 

Poor old Tom was beginning to tire of the 
everlasting rush and hurry of the great city. 
Tlie noise deafened liim, the people were so 
unlike those of his own State and village, 
where everybody knew everybody else, and 
all each other’s atfairs, much like one family. 
Here' no one knew you, and no one cared 
whether you lived or died, so that you did 
not happen to interfere with his own in- 
dividual ambitions and well-bein^. 


The Duke^ 


187 


On the evening of Mrs Van Eyck’s ball, 
Tom was sauntering down Fifth Avenue think- 
ing it was about time to dine, when, to his in- 
tense delight, he met De Montfort ; the latter, 
on his part, seemed equally delighted to see 
Tom. 

‘^Come into Delmonico’s and dine with me,” 
he said heartily, after the first salutations were 
over. Tom, nothing loth, cheerfully consented, 
and they went in together. 

“Malcolm promised to join me here, so. it 
will be quite like old times,” De Montfort said, 
as they entered the dining-room. Poor Tom 
gave a great sigh of relief at this thought. His 
so-longed-for visit to the great city had, so 
far, been nothing but a dismal disappointment. 
Deprived even of the society of Kitty, he had 
wandered about the croAvded streets all day, 
his feet blistered by the hard pavements, so 
different from the country-roads he had been 
accustomed to all his life. Sometimes he 
heard himself saluted by the impudent street 
gamins as “ hayseed,” and was often asked 
“Where he got that hat?” These things, and 
many others, had made him low-spirited ; but 
the principal reason of his gloom upon this 
special eyefting was that his darling littlg 


The American Duchess 


Kitty was to make her appearance at her first 
ball and that he would not be there to see 
her. This had cut the alTectionate creature to 
the heart, and he knew that Kitty, perhaps, 
felt it almost more than he did himself, 
and the knowledge of his exclusion l)y her 
cold - hearted grandmother would lessen her 
pleasure. 

Now, as they entered Delmonico’s crowded 
rooms, Tom glanced at De Montfort’s kind, 
manly face, and thought that in him he 
would find a confidant who would sympathise 
with him in all his woes And in this he did 
not err. 

Mrs Van Eyck, erect and tall, and most dis- 
tinguished in her exquisite toilette of amber 
velvets and old lace, the latter held by the 
diamonds for which the old lady was so 
famous, stood receiving, wdth much content, 
the guests whom she had made happy with 
invitations to her great ball. Beside her was 
Kitty, perfect in her loveliness, gowned in 
some diaphanous robe of white. Her blue 
eyes looked wondering upon this throng of 
well-dressed people. She heard, with blush- 
ing shyness, the many compliments paid to 


The Duke 


189 


her grandmother upon her account, and 
wished the people would not stare at her 
so much. She thought of Bessie’s longing to 
go to just such a ball as this, and wondered if 
she would enjoy it. 

Many had been the demands made upon Mrs 
Van Eyck that she should permit her grand- 
daughter to dance, but the old lady refused 
them all, saying it was necessary that Kitty 
should remain and continue to receive with 
her. She was determined that none but the 
duke himself should be permitted this honour. 
But he had not come yet, and she began to look 
anxiously at each fresh arrival, fearing that 
perhaps some mishap might have occurred to 
upset all her plans. 

“My dear, do not look so very solemn, 
remember one must always smile in society,” 
she hurriedly whispered to Kitty, and then, as 
if to carry out her own axiom, turned with 
sympathising sweetness to listen to the senile 
platitudes of a toothless old diplomat at her side. 

Kitty was thinking of dear old Uncle Tom, 
left out of this gay throng, and probably sitting 
alone in his little ugly bedroom at his hotel. 
She did not feel very cheerful, and it struck her 
sensitive perceptions that the compliments and 


190 The American Duchess 

polite speeches of tliese fine friends of her 
grandmother all sounded the same, and were 
delivered in the same insincere tones and per- 
functory manner. The smile which she en- 
deavoured to assume at her grandmother’s 
bidding died away, and her little fingers 
began painfully intertwining themselves to 
the peril of her long, white gloves, as memories 
of home, her father. Nan and the sweet lost 
summer came back to her, making her forget 
her grandmother, the ball, and the brilliant 
assemblage gathered about her. She found 
herself wondering sadly what had become of 
De Montfurt, and recalling that last happy 
day when he had taken her and placed her in 
her hammock, under the tall, arching trees. 
These last had been so green, and in the pride 
of their summer beauty then, “Now . . . 
why had he gone away so suddenly . . , 
why ? . . . ’ 

“ The Duke of Chando.s, Lord Inverness and 
Mr Thomas Fauntleroy ! ” shouted the footman. 

Kitty turned her head quickly. That hated 
Duke ! . . . De Montfort ! Malcolm, and Uncle 
Tom ! Impossible ! Her head swam ; she felt 
a mist before her eyes, and her little hand 
lay cold and dead in De Montfort’s. 


The Duke 


191 


Mrs Van Eyck almost forgot her anger and 
surprise at the sight of poor old Tom, looking 
extremely handsome, and carrying himself with 
his usual simple dignity in one of the duke’s 
own dress suits, in her delight at finding that, 
apparently, the duke and Kitty were old friends, 
for she saw them now chatting beside her, the 
girl’s paleness and distraite air changed into 
a look of interest, and her lovely eyes beaming 
with pleasure, whilst her colour burned so 
brilliant as to make her red-gold hair and the 
darker lines of her eyebrows and lashes appear 
even more unusually beautiful than ever. Such 
colouring as hers is very rarely seen, and when 
it does appear, it certainly eclipses that of all 
less-favoured women. Malcolm was talking 
to Mrs Van Eyck herself, seeking to cover 
the probable embarrassment of dear old Tom, 
whom he and the duke had determined should 
see his Kitty’s triumph and be made welcome 
in the house of her grandmother, and thus 
had brought him with them, though, for his 
own part, Tom had had many misgivings as 
to what sort of a welcome awaited him, 

Mrs Van Eyck, meantime, was wondering 
how it had been that Kitty had not mentioned 
knowing the duke, and hated Tom worse than 


1021 The American Duchess 

ever for not quickly informing her that he was 
such an intimate friend of the latter’s, in which 
case he should have been invited to stay in her ' 
house and partake of the very best it afforded. 

“ May I have the pleasure of this first dance 
with Miss Fauntleroy % " said Wyndham. 

Mrs Van Eyck delightedly acquiesced. Every- 
thing was progressing much more favourably 
than even her wildest hopes had anticipated. 
Kitty, blushing, smiling and happy, went off 
upon the arm of the duke, to the envy of all 
the other girls in the room. 

“You do not want really to dance, do you?” 
was his first word. “Would you not rather let 
us talk for a little first ? I want to hear of all 
that has been happening down South.” 

Kitty was only too delighted with this idea. 
She was so happy ; all the past two miserable 
months seemed to have been a dream, and he, 
still the same as when he used to read to her, 
and fetch and carry for her, at good Aunt Nan’s 
bidding. He looked so handsome and so happy ; 
the scene, first uninteresting and stupid, now 
seemed like some fairy dream ; the lights, the 
music, the sweet perfumes, and, above all, the 
sound of his voice, talking to her as of old, 
fairly intoxicated her. She was happy. 


The Duke I93 

She even forgot for a time that he was tlie 
duke — the duke whom she had intended to 
hate, and, if possible, escape from. Now she sat 
with him chatting as innocently as a little child, 
listening and laughing at the funny account 
he gave of the manner in which he had met 
good old Tom, and persuaded him to face 
her grandmother, the dragon, and come hither 
with him and Malcolm to see her. He, too, 
was dangerously happy. He had suffered so 
cruelly for his folly during these months of 
their separation, that he told himself that, 
just for this evening, he would forget all the 
past, and only remember that he had found 
her again. He had sat talking long over the 
wine at Delmonico’s, and perhaps the cham- 
pagne was responsible for his present temper. 

“And now let us have this valse,” he saiJ, 
rising and offering her his arm. 

Kitty had been telling him of all her 
troubles about Uncle Tom and her grand- 
mother. Then, suddenly remembering every- 
thing, she exclaimed, — 

“ But why did you never tell me you were 
the duke?” 

She was still sitting, and a bank of pink 
azaleas backgrounded her . to perfection. De 

N 


194 


The A^mrican DiuhesS 


Montfort, looking down into her upturned eyes, 
thought that he had never seen a creature 
more lovely. 

“ You forget you told me yourself that you 
hated titles and titled men, and so I was 
afraid ; and when Malcolm came, I persuaded 
him to help me keep the secret. He was 
afraid it was sailing under false colours, and 
his conscience was not quite easy upon the 
subject, but I over-persuaded him. You are 
not angry ? ” he asked suddenly, looking 
earnestly into her innocent, upturned face. 

“ No, I am not angry ” — here she withdrew 
her eyes from his and drooped her head — 
“ but I wish you hadn’t,” she said simply. 

“Forgive me, dear,” he said hoarsely, and 
his pulses beat wildly, as he noted the ex- 
quisite turn of her bent profile and the 
whiteness of her shoulders. He had never 
seen more than her throat before. Fairly 
intoxicated with her beauty, he reseated 
himself beside her. He had forgotten Bessie 
and the past. 

“ Kitty, dear, say you will forgive me ? ” 
he pleaded. 

Her lips trembled ; she could not answer 
him ; she was troubled. This part which he 


The Duke 195 

had acted had been a lie. Herself the 
embodiment of truth, she was hurt by the 
slightest deviation from it in one she loved ; 
and he had seemed so perfect. She remained 
silent. 

“ Why do you not answer me ? Kitty . . .” 

He had drawn closer to her. The girl felt 
a strange weakness as his breath felt upon 
her cheek. It was so sweet to hear his voice 
pleading thus for pardon. 

“ Kitty, tell me that — ” He had forgotten 
Bessie, honour, prudence. In another moment 
it would have been too late, and he would 
have asked Kitty to love him, but at this 
instant Uncle Tom and Malcolm appeared, 
seeking them. 

“ I want to tell }mu some good news, 
dear,” said Uncle Tom, happily, with rather 
a mischievous smile. “Your grandmother 
has invited me to stay the rest of my time 
here in the house, and she has ordered my 
traps to be brought over from the hotel.” 

“ Come and take your chocolate with me 
my darling ; I want to hear how it was that 
you never told me you knew the duke.’ 

Mrs Van Eyck, in the best of spirits. 


196 The American Duchess 

wound her arm round Kitty’s slender waist, 
and drew her into her own boudoir. Kissing 
the childish face, which looked a little pale 
and thoughtful, she continued, — 

“ You were certainly the belle to - night ; 
everybody said so, and I am very proud 
of you. Why, the duke is devoted to you 
already.” 

Kitty blushed deeply and gave a little 
shy glance sideways at her grandmother, but 
said nothing. She was thinking, “ Perhaps if 
she, too, thinks so. . . .” Then she blushed 
again, even more deeply, and hung her head, 
as if abashed by her own thought. 

De Montfort dismissed his valet immedi- 
ately upon his return from the ball. Light- 
ing a cigar, he stood smoking, and lazily 
looking into the fire. What he saw there 
must have worried him, as his brows drew 
together, and he pulled savagely at his cigar. 

“ What a fool I have been ! ” he muttered. 
“What a cursed, cursed fool!” 

Then he began to pace savagely to and 
fro. Presently he stopped and went to a 
sideboard, and, taking up a spirit decanter, 
poured himself out a glass of brandy, which 


The Duke 


197 


he drained ; then he returned and resumed 
his old attitude at the fire. His brow re- 
tained its troubled lines, and the fire - faces 
still looked back at him' with sad, accusing 
eyes. Throwing his unfinished cigar into the 
flames, he was about to turn away, when he 
stopped, and taking from his pocket a small 
note-book, he opened it and looked long and 
tenderly at a face within, sketched in pencil 
by himself. It was Kitty. He had done the 
drawing unknown to her one day as he sat 
near her, when she was reclining in the old 
hammock under the trees. Now he gazed at 
the sweet face, then, with a long-drawn breath, 
closed and restored the little book to its 
place. Moving towards his bedroom, he 
muttered, — 

“ Yes, a cursed, cursed fool ! ” 


CHAPTER X 


THE SEALED I;ETTER 

“ So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night ; 

Scourged to his dungeon ; but sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.” 

William C,ullen Bryant. 

“ Pete ! oli, Pete ! where are the letters ? ” 

“ Here dey is, sah two on ’em — one is from 
Mis’ Kitty, and one is from Mister Tom.” Old 
Pete’s coal-black face beamed as he entered the 
breakfast-room, first having shaken the dry 
powdered snow from his hat, and unwound from 
his neck and shoulders a huge horse-blanket 
which enveloped them. “ Here dey is.” He 
extended the letters and some newspapers to 
his master. 

‘‘Mr Fauntleroy’s delicate, worn features 

188 


The Sealed Letter^ iy9 

reflected the pleasure expressed by Pete’s face ; 
he smiled contentedly as he recognised the 
familiar handwritings. 

“Now we shall hear about the ball,” said 
Nail, eyeing the letters with great interest. 
As she watched her brother carefully cut open 
both envolopes after his usual methodical 
manner, she was wondering as to tlie success 
of her ball dress. Kitty had never told her 
of the sad misadventures that had befallen it. 
The pale winter sunshine through the window 
opposite illumined' the kind, plain faee, and 
her eyes returned her brother’s smile as he 
quietly drew Kitty’s letter from its envolope, 
and glanced quickly down the first page. 
Suddenly he stopped in his reading, went over 
a passage he had just read again, with such a 
look of astonishment upon his face as to cause 
Nan to demand, — 

“ Why, what’s the matter, brother ? ” 

“Well, I can hardly understand, but it 
appears that De Montfort is the duke, 
and . . 

“ Duke ? ” cried Nan. “ Wyndham de MonP 
fort the duke ! ” 

“ Why, yes, and Malcolm is Lord Inverness.” 

*‘My!” 


200 The American Duchess 

Nan sat lost in astonishment, her mouth 
pursed into a round “ 0,” and her eyes opened 
to their widest extent Then another thought 
struck her. 

“ My, hut what will Bessie say ? ” 

“ Here she is, along with Bell,” Mr Fauntle- 
roy replied, as from his seat he saw them 
approaching on horseback under the leafless 
trees of the avenue. Nan wondered how Bessie 
would take the news, for the latter had always 
surprised her good, simple aunt with her long- 
ings after riches and a great marriage, and 
many were the discussions between them on 
this head. Nan holding that contentment 
with one’s lot, whatever it might be, was the 
surest road to happiness ; which sentiment 
Bessie would always deride with scornful 
laughter, telling Nan that if she knew the 
world better, she would not enunciate such 
nonsense as contempt of wealth, 

Mr Fauntleroy, who had been quietly finish- 
ing his correspondence, now looked towards 
his sister, and laughed. 

“ It appears that as soon as Mrs Van Eyck 
found out that brother Tom knew De Montfort, 
she insisted upon his taking up his residence 
at her bouse ou Fifth Aveque. He says that, 


The Sealed Letter 201 

but for Kitty’s sake, he would have stayed 
away, but the child welcomed the idea of 
his coming with delight, and so he has gone 
there.” 

“ Doesn’t he say anything about the ball ? ’ 
inquired Nan, with interest. 

“ Yes here is a postscript.” Handing the 
letter to Nan he pointed to the passage. It read, 
“Tell Nan, with my love, that our Kitty was 
the belle of the ball.” 

“ I wonder he didn’t say anything about 
if her dress was admired,” grumbled Nan, 
be^ining to read the letter from its commence- 
ment, whilst Fauntleroy began tearing off the 
wrapper of a newspaper which Tom had sent. 

At this monient voices were heard in the 
hall, and Bessie and her tall squire entered 
the room. 

“Well, what about the ball?” were her 
first words, on coming in, as she looked towards 
the letter in Nan’s hand. The ride had brought 
a lovely colour to her cheeks, and she appeared 
more than usually handsome in her olive-green 
habit. Will Bell at her side regarded her 
with eyes which plainly told his admiration. 

“You’d never guess what has happened,” 
Nan commenced, anxious to tell the news, 


202 


The American Duchess 


Seeing Bessie’s look of inquiry, she hastened 
to add, “De Montfort. . . Then she stopped 
dead, afraid of the expression of the girl’s face 
at the mention of the name. 

“Well, what of him?” Bessie demanded, 
coldly, her voice so changed tliat, involun- 
tarily, both the gentlemen turned and looked 
at her, surprised. Seeing Will Bell’s eyes 
upon her, and Nan sitting open - mouthed 
watching her, she burst out angrily, “What’s 
the matter with him ? Why can’t you tell 
the news. Aunt Nan, instead of gaping at 
me ? ” she added rudely. 

Thus adjured, Nan rushed at her subject. 

“ He turns out to be the duke himself ? ” 

“ What ! ” cried Bessie, her face blanching, 
and catching with both hands at the table for 
support. 

“ And Malcolm is Lord Inverness. You 
could have done gone and knocked me over 
with a chicken feather,” went on Nan, be- 
ginning to put together the tea things, 
“ when Uncle George read it out of brotlier 
Tom’s letter.” 

Will Bell’s face lowered, and he squared his 
heavy jaws ominously as he watched the way 
in which Bessie received the news, 


The Sealed Letter 203 

“ By slie does care for that English 

swell,” he thought fiercely. “ I’ll be if she' 

can fool me, and I’ll keep a mighty tight hand 
over her for the future.” 

‘^I must say,” Mr Fauntleroy commenced, 
“that I hardly thought De Montfort a man 
who would pass himself off as other than he 
was in another man’s house, and I shall be 
glad to hear what explanation he has to give 
of such conduct. I always considered him 
and Malcolm gentlemen till now.” 

“Then you were mistaken. Uncle George,” 
cried Bessie. “I guess he’s no sort of gentle- 
man, to act as he has done. But he’ll repent 
it,” she added angrily. 

The colour had returned to her face, burning 
red with the excitement she felt, and her 
eyes flamed with rage over wdiat she con- 
sidered the duplicity of the two Englishmen 
in having concealed their identity from her. 

“But I’ve got him fast enough,” she re 
fleeted ; and then there came a rush of hatred 
against Kitty in her heart as she remembered 
De Montfort’s evident love for her, and that, 
now the girl, with every advantage of beauty, 
wealth and position was able daily to see 
and meet him in New York ; whilst she, 


204 The American Duchess 

Bessie — his promised wife — remained neglected 
and alone. Had she dared to do so she 
would have at once proclaimed her en- 
gagement to De Montfort, hut something she 
read in Will Bell’s eyes restrained her. She 
dared not face the consequences of the jealous 
Texan’s wrath ; she would temporise, and wait 
until he was safely gone home again. “ Then 
. . . then . . .” she thought, vindictively. At 
the same time she fairly reeled with joy ; it 
seemed to her that she must scream aloud as 
she began to comprehend that this was not a 
dream ; that, in fact, all the dreams of all 
her discontented girlhood were about to be 
realised, and that she, Bessie, was the pro- 
mised wife of an English duke . . . that she 
would become an English duchess. . . . Leave 
the dull country, go to Europe, be welcomed 
by the English queen, be envied for her beauty, 
rank and riches, by all women less fortunate 
than herself. . . . 

These thoughts, and many more, coursed 
through her brain, filling her with a sense of 
triumph, and in trying to conceal which, from 
the searching regard of the man to whom she 
had been engaged for three years, she only 
succeeded in becoming insolent. 


The Sealed Letter 


205 


“ Wliat has come to you, Bessie ? ” he asked 
savagely, cutting at the table leg with his 
whip ; “ I guess you needn’t fuss over this d — d 
English duke. He’s nothing to you, anyway. 
You . . 

A wicked smile lifted Bessie’s lips and 
showed tbe teeth with something of menace. 

“ How do you know that ? ” she sneered, 

interrupting him. 

“ What,” he cried, turning round upon her, 
his eyes flashing fire. By instinct she shrank 
slightly backwards ; in his fury he had half- 
raised the riding-whip, as if to strike her. 

Seeing that she was goading him too far 
for her own comfort, she pretended not to 
have seen the uplifted whip, and with a little 
contemptuous shrug of the shoulder next him 
turned and began to move towards the 

kitchen. 

“ I must go and help Nan with the break- 
fast china,” she said indifferently. 

“Stop a minute,” he called out, striding after 
her; “you are not generally so mighty ready 
to help anybody.” Here he laid a heavy hand 

on her shoulder. “You just stay right here, 

and explain things to me a bit.” 

The grip on her shoulder hurt her, and his 


2o6 The American Duchess 

voice sounded so menacing that Bessie, bold 
as she was, quailed a little. She stopped un- 
willingly. 

“ You leave me alone, Will Bell,” she said 
sullenly. “What right have you to lay hands 
on me ? How dare you ! ” She had turned 
towards him, and glared up savagely into 
his dark face, its features sw'ellcd and distorted 
with rage. Facing each other thus, they 
looked like two tigers at bay., Bessie’s bold, 
grey eyes met unflinchingly his fierce, black 
ones. “ You needn’t try to bully me. You, 
Will Bell. You have got check ; I suppose 
you take me for an Indian squaw.” Then, 
taking courage at his silence, she went on, 
“After this exhibition of your jealous temper 
you can just consider our engagement broken 
off.” 

“ Never ! ” he hissed through his teeth, 
taking a furious hold of both her wrists, 
“never!” Here he bent his head forward 
over her, so that she could feel his breath 
upon her, as he went on in a low, suffocated 
voice, “ Never, Bessie Barmore ; don’t think 
you can fool me that way. You will be my 
wife, or ... or ... ” Bessie at last, fairly in- 
timidated, shrank a little. Seeing her quail he 


The Sealed Letter 


ioy 

gripped her wrists tighter. “ No, you needn’t 
think to fool me. Now, I know what has 
changed you. Before this d — d duke came 
around here, you were pleased enough to be 
engaged to me. If you could have got your 
folks to give us five hundred dollars, you 
would have married me, and set up store 

right here in vide three years ago. Well, 

you weren’t content to marry me on what I 
had, but never ceased with your cursed 
ambitious views till you had driven me out 
west, away from home, and folks, and mother.” 
His voice grew husky ; Bessie tried to release 
her w'rists, he only held them as in a vice. 

“ Yes, mother broke her heart and died, all 

because of your cursed vanity. Do you think 
I forget the loneliness of those days upon the 
prairies with na’ry a soul to speak to, never 
a sound save the lowing of the beasts by 
day, and the howls of the coyotes at night. 
The scorching heats of summer, and the 

freezing cold of winter. Hunger, thirst, danger 
from Indians, horse thieves, and all the 

scoundrels who crowd to the borders of 
civilisation because they cannot, or dare not, 
remain in a country of white men. By God ! 
Bessie Barmore, you have made me endure 


2o8 


The Arnevkan DuchesS 


all this, and much more, for your sake, and 
now do not think you can cry hot and cold, 
and pitch me aside like an old moccasin, just 
because your ambition leads you to regard 
plain Will Bell as a nobody beside your d — d 
English aristocratic friends. No, by heavens ! 
you shall marry me now or die — do you hear ? 
Have I told you plain enough ? ” He shook 
her, furious and maddened at her insolently 
smiling mouth, and bold, defiant eyes. She 
had gotten over her fright of him, and stood 
swaying her head slightly as if to punctuate 
his speech. 

“ Let go my wrists,” she said carelessly. 
“If you don’t, I shall call Uncle George.” 

At this moment Nan came bustling into 
the room followed by Pete. 

Bell dropped Bessie’s wrists, giving her, 
at the same time, a look which would have 
frightened any less foolhardy creature than 
herself. 

Tossing her head by way of response, the 
girl turned, and ran lightly upstairs to the 
room she always occupied when staying here 
with Nan. Locking the door behind her she 
sat down on the side of her bed to think. 


The Sealed Letter 209 

An hour had passed. Bessie, her eyes 
flaming with exeitement, opened her door 
stealthily, and, looking out, listened. Then 
she went softly down the staircase and into 
the parlour. Securing some writing materials, 
she returned quietly to her own room with 
them. Again locking the door, she sat down 
to write at a small table near the window, 
and was soon so engrossed with her occupa- 
tion that she did not notice the heavy foot- 
steps of Will Bell ascending the stairs to seek 
her. She had finished her letter and was 
looking over it, with a satisfied expression, 
when, with rough, determined hand, Bell 
knocked upon the door. 

“ Ain’t you going home to dinner ? ” he 
demanded, savagely. 

“ No, you can go right back without me ; 
say I am coming home to-morrow.” 

“What’s that for?” 

“You just let me be. I’ll stay on here 
till you learn how to behave yourself. You 
bet I will ! ” 

Standing on the other side of the door. 
Bell’s face fell. He had a jealous, ungovern- 
able temper, but, as Bessie well knew, was 
most passionately devoted to her. Now, on 
9 


210 The American Duchess 

hearing her determination, he suddenly became 
penitent. The prospect of thus losing her 
society for several days seemed unbearable to 
him. At the same time he hated giving 
way, and having to humble himself before 
her. Pretending not to have heard her last 
speech, he called out, — 

“ Say, oh, Bessie, shall I tell Pete to bring 
around the horses in an hour ? You know 
you promised to go sleigh-riding this evening.” 

Bessie smiled as she noted his change of 
voice. She wanted to post her letter, and 
she liked driving in the new sleigh he had 
bought on purpose for her use. Wrapt up 
to the eyes in the warm furs he had brought 
her, and which skins he had killed and cured 
with his own hands, sewing them, painfully, 
together as he sat thinking of her beside 
his fire alone in the long, cold nights of a 
Texan winter, Bessie loved to go gliding over 
the hard snow to the tune of the merry bells 
beside him. 

“ Oh, all right, I don’t care. Order the 
horses if you like ; it’s all one to me,” she 
called out, with affected indifference. Still he 
did not move away. 

“ Oh, Bessie ! ” His voice had taken on 


The Sealed Letter 


21 I 


a coaxing tone which her cars were quick to 
note. “ Oh, Bessie ! '’ 

“ Well, what do you want now ? ” 

She was slipping the letter into an envelope. 

“ Say, won’t you open the door just one 
minute ? ” 

Ilis voice sounded more persuasive than ever. 
Bessie’s brow cleared. Telling herself that in 
this mood he was much less formidable and 
more likely to be influenced to do as she desired, 
she slipped the now sealed letter into her 
pocket and went to open the door. Throwing 
it wide she stood and faced him. 

“ Well, what is it ? ” 

She assumed a rough, careless tone, not 
intending to let him know how greatly his 
changed mood contented her. 

“ Bessie, dear, let’s make up. I am afraid 
I was a kind of a brute to you this morning. 
Give us a kiss, old girl, and let’s forget it.” 

He stood fearful before her. She had fixed 
him with her cold, round eyes, much as a cat 
secure of its prey might do. She took no 
notice of his outstretched arms, with their mute 
supplication for peace. She was thinking how 
coarse and red and large his hard-working hands 
appeared in contrast with those of De Mont- 


212 The American Duchess 

furt, and wondoring how she could ever have 
thought of being his wife and loving him. 

“ Make up, dear,” again he pleaded, and 
this time, emboldened by her silence, he 

threw his arms round her and kissed her 

passionately. She suffered his embrace coldly, 
silent still, and he suddenly became conscious 
of her lack of response. All his jealousy of 
the morning returned, stirring his soul to its 
depths. As he angrily threw back his head, 
he looked beyond her into the room, and 
caught sight of the table with the writing 
materials strewn upon it. 

“Who’s that letter to you have been 

writing ? ” His voice choked in his throat, 

and his fists clenched. “ Who’s it to, I say ? ” 

“Only Uncle Tom.” She tried to control 
the fear in her voice. What if he should 
want to read it, and seize it from her ? In 
his passionate rage he was capable of any 
violence. 

“ Show it me,” he demanded ; and there 
was that in his eye and voice which com- 
pelled her, as if under a spell, to put her 
hand in her pocket and draw forth the sealed 
letter. It bore the address of Mr Thomas 
Fauntleroy, at Mrs Van Eyck’s, New York. 


The Sealed Letter 


21 


Will Bell took it in his hand and read the 
superscription. The heavy dull red in his 
face died down, and the great chords in his 
throat and forehead lessened as he did so. 
Slowly reading the written words over a 
second time, he drew a deep breath. 

“By God! I thought you’d been writing to 

that ” he said, very slowly, giving the letter 

back into her cold, trembling hand. He did 
not see that her face had blanched to the 
lips. She Irad turned quickly back into the 
room, gripping the letter tight, in terror lest 
his mood might change, and he demand to 
see its contents. 


CHAPTER XI 


“they can’t fool me!” 

“ There are gains for all our losses — 

There are balms for all our pain ; 

But when youth, the dreamy departs, 

It tal^es something from our hearts. 

And it never comes again. 

Bichard Henry Stoddard. 

'* To ride in the Park ! Oh, how very lovely ! ” 
Kitty clapped her hands with delight ; Mrs 
Van Eyck glanced at the duke, and seeing that 
he was not scandalised by Kitty’s frank ex- 
pression of pleasure, did not chide her for her 
childishness. 

Uncle Tom was, as usual, a quiet spectator, 
his handsome face illumined with a pleased 
smile, as he looked from Kitty to De Montfort. 
The latter was radiant with pleasure. Re- 
membering Kitty’s delight in riding, he had 
come to ask Mrs Van Eyck’s consent to her 
joining Uncle Tom and himself on the morrow, 
and was well assured beforehand of her giving 


“ They cant fool Me ! “ 215 

it. He was too clever not to have observed 
how ready the old lady w;is to favour him in 
all things, and especially to throw him and 
Kitty together. More passionately in love 
than ever, De Montfort strove by every 
sophistry to assuage his conscience ; telling 
himself that he alone would suffer from their 
continual meetings in society, and that these 
were inevitable ; and also that Kitty’s feeling 
for him was no more than a childish affection, 
as for any friend who might be near her. He 
told himself, also, that she was engaged to 
another man, and so must be safe in his 
society. With these, and a thousand other 
arguments, he strove to excuse himself to 
himself for being always at her side. 

Between him and Malcolm had arisen a cold- 
ness indefinable to either, but standing like a 
wall between them. Upon Kitty’s first arrival 
in New York, Malcolm, seeing the turn things 
were taking, had ventured, by way of reminder 
to De Montfort, to ask the latter whether he 
was still engaged to Bessie. A curt reply in the 
affirmative, coupled with the remark that, as 
Kitty herself was engaged to another man, there 
could be nothing for anyone to carp at, was all 
Malcolm received for his pains. He was forced 


2i6 The American Dtichess 

to maintain silence whilst his own heart ached 
profoundly, and his mind was_perplexed by this 
unexpected news of Kitty’s supposed engage- 
ment. Thus it had come to pass that the two 
friends became estranged, and saw less of each 
other than formerly, only meeting in societ}-, 
or at clubs where they had both been made 
honorary members, when they each .sought to 
avoid the other. 

Naturally, in society itself men all stood 
aside, con-^idering that Kitty was already 
monopolised by the duke, and already 
rumours were rife regarding the expected 
announcement of their engagement. Mrs 
Van Eyck herself promoted, and delighted 
to welcome these, expecting every day that 
De Montfort would declare himself. Malcolm, 
knowing the truth, stood by pained and help- 
le.ss, longing, but unable, to set things right. 
It had never yet occurred to him to doubt 
Kitty’s being affianced to another man, and 
he noted her innocent pleasure in De Mont- 
fort’s society with surprise, wondering whether 
all women were alike flirts, and to be dazzled 
from their faith and allegiance by the glitter 
of wealth and glamour of a title. With the 
loss of his belief in Kitty came disbelief in all 


'^^■ T'hey cdfit fo'd'l Me / ” 2 1 7 

good; and liis happy, optimist nature began to 
be oppressed and disturbed. He found him- 
self taking very different views of life from 
those he had held until now, and the change 
made him sad and reckless. 

Failing the society of De Montfort, he 
attiichcd himself to Uncle Tom, and the 
latter found himself “ seeing life ” in a manner 
and with a thoroughness which made him 
sometimes fairly catch his breath. When he 
feebly tried to remonstrate with the young 
man, Malcolm would ridicule him in a manner 
very unlike his former genial self, laughing ;it 
his country notions, and making poor old Tom 
feel very bad, from a religious point of view. 
Thus it came that the two went along together ; 
Malcolm leading with reckless deviltry, and 
Tom weakly following, his hair on end with 
horror, and the fear of everlasting damnation 
before his mental vision. Neither, at this 
time, found much contentment in their lives. 

Time flew by in a continual whirl of balls, 
dances, theatre-parties, luncheons, driving -and 
riding in the Park. Kitty, without losing her 
love and longing for her people and her home, 
had gotten accustomed to the continual riot of 


2i8 The American Duchess 

pleasure around her. She even took great 
delight in it all, knowing that it would only 
last for a season, and she need not exchange 
this for longer than a few months for the life, 
friends and home she loved best. Innocently 
happy in the diversions with which she was 
surrounded, her child’s eyes saw only the- fairy 
glitter of what was about her. The shams 
appeared real ; falsehood stimulated truth ; 
shadows, substance ; envy, hatred, malice and 
all uncharitableness hid their faces from her 
pure gaze. She, saw only life from its most 
agreeable point of view, and took everyone 
at his own valuation. 

Could she have known enough to pause and 
analj^se the reasons for her present joy and con- 
tentment, she would have discovered that, for 
her, everything resoh^ed itself round De Mont- 
fort, and, without him, all would have been 
changed, and society have presented itself 
under very different aspects to her vdew, and 
her life in it become dull and insipid. Ex- 
perience had yet to be her teacher. 

One morning, Kitty, clad in her riding-habit, 
sat awaiting the arrival of De Montfort to 
accompany her and Uncle Tom for their 
usual ride in the Park, These rides had come 


2 19 


“ They can't fool Me ! 

to be a habit with them now, on all fine days, 
and De Montfort told himself there could be 
no harm in them because of Tom’s presence 
there. Kitty was sitting, giving her little feet 
a last toast before the pleasant blazing Liver- 
pool coals, when the duke and Uncle Tom came 
in togejiher, both looking ruddy and handsome 
from exercise, and bringing with them the in- 
describable fresh scent of the outer air of New 
York, upon a crisp, bright winter’s day. 

Kitty had risen, and they were about to go 
out together to the waiting horses when a 
footman entered, handing a letter to Uncle 
Tom. He was about to slip it into his 
pocket for later perusal when Kitty cried 
out, — 

“Oh, Uncle Tom, it’s from Bessie; do open 
it.” 

De Montfort’s face paled a little ; biting his 
lip fiercely, he turned his head so as to avoid 
Kitty’s eyes. But she was not thinking of 
him ; she was eagerly watching Uncle Tom 
as he tore open his letter. 

“ Oh, there is one for me, I am sure ! ” she 
cried, putting out her hand for an enclosure 
which Tom found within his own letter. 
“ Give it m.e.” 


The American Duchess 


210 

He gave it to her, without looking at its 
superscription, and she hastily tore it open 
and began to read, dropping its envelope 
upon the carpet at her feet. Quickly De 
Montfort stooped to pick it up and restore 
it to her. In doing so he could not help 
seeing the address written in Bessie’s great, 
flourishing hand, — 

To 

H. R. H. 

The Duke of Chandos, 

New York. 

A spasm of horror seized him. Crushing 
the paper convulsively in his palm he looked 
at Kitty. 

She stood, her face pale, her brows knit 
with a puzzled expression, staring at the letter 
in her hand. 

At this moment Uncle Tom, who had been 
searching for his glasses, without which he 
could not read, said quickly, — 

“Give me that back, Kitty; it’s for you,” 
he went on, turning to De Montfort, and 
handing him the letter he had taken from 
Kitty’s unresisting fingers. 


“ They cant fool Me / ” 221 

“ What can slie mean ? ” 

De Montfort’s hand shook as she turned 
her clear eyes upon him, and asked this 
question. 

The letter ran ; — 

‘'■Dec. ith. 

“ Tell Uncle Tom if you mean to keep your 
promise or not. You need not tell him what 
about. But get him to write to me at once. 
Do not write yourself, as it may bring trouble. 
I have hept the secret. Bessie.” 

De Montfort cursed himself, as, having read 
Bessie’s words, he looked up and met Kitty’s 
clear, questioning gaze. Uncle Tom, without 
knowing it, innocently blundered to his assist- 
ance with, — 

“ Bessie says you have never paid your bet 
of gloves, and she wants to know whether 
you are going to keep your promise or not ? 
She says I’m to write and tell her, ‘ yes ’ or 
‘ no.’ ” 

Tom had not proceeded far .with this speech 
when Kitt}^ with a little sigh of relief, said, — 

“ Never mind the gloves now ; let us get 
our ride before the snow begins.” 


222 


The American Duchess 


Three clays later Bessie was passing the 
little village post-office on horseback with 
Will Bell. Just as they w'ere getting to the 
end of the street, a voice crying, “ Bessie, 
Bessie,” arrested them. Turning, they saw 
running, bareheaded, the red - haired youth 
who minded the office with one eye, whilst 
with the other, and the rest of his mental 
capacity, he sold tapes, buttons and other 
nondescript articles to the residents of the 
little town. Breathless, he reached them, 
and handed up to Bessie a long package, 
done up with great care, and a letter in 
Uncle Tom’s writing. Feeling Bell’s eye upon 
her, Bessie coloured, and pretending to take 
no interest in the letter and package, stuffed 
them carelessly into a satchel she was carrying. 

“ What’s that ? ” asked Bell, eagerly, trying 
to scrutinise the contents of the satchel. 

“ They got the New York mark on ’em. 
I guess, Bessie, you’ve got a beau there, .too, 
haven’t you ? ” said he of the post-office. 

Bessie frowned angrily at the red-headed 
lout, leaning with his arm thrown over her 
horse’s shoulder, and without even thanking 
him for his trouble, gave her animal a cut 


223 


“ They can't fool Me ! ” 

which sent him bounding forward, and neaily 
deposited the unfortunate youth in the road 
behind her. 

“It is no good trying to fool me, Bessie ; 
show me what’s in that package.” 

As he said the words, with an adroit move- 
ment he snatched the package from its 
hiding-place, and, in spite of all Bessie’s 
persuasion, alternated with threats and abuse, 
he rode off quickly with it back in the direc- 
tion of the town, leaving Bessie to follow or 
not, as she pleased. 

When he had disappeared round a bend 
on the shoulder of the mountain, Bessie 
ground her teeth hard, and, giving her horse 
a savage stroke with her heavy whip, started 
off in a gallop towards home. After she had 
gone about a quarter of a mile, she suddenly 
drew rein. “ The letter,” she thought. Then 
she took out Tom’s epistle and swiftly 
glanced through its contents. As she came 
towards the end, her face brightened, and 
she smiled triumphantly. She laughed out 
loud, and the shelving mountain side, rising 
above her, echoed back her words. 

“He’ll keep his promise. He’ll keep his 
promise.” 


224 American Duchess 

She laughed again aloud. 

With her letter still open in her hand, and 
the reins hanging loosely, she did not seem 
to notice that her horse had taken the law 
into his own keeping, and had commenced 
getting home at a brisk walk. Suddenly 
Bessie seemed to recall herself from dream- 
land. She sought for the envelope, and was 
about to restore Tom’s letter within when, 
to her surprise, she saw that there remained 
inside another sheet. She drew it out im- 
patiently, wondering what more he had to 
tell her. 

“ P.S . — I almost forgot to tell you, Bessie, 
that, if you will never be a duchess yourself, 
you stand a very good chance of being cousin 
to one. All New York is talking nbout the 
duke and Kitty, and Mrs Van Eyck seems to 
think that the engagement will be announced 
any time now. Kitty seems very happy, and 
so does Be Montfort, except occasionally when 
he gets a black fit on him I have never seen 
the equal of. He and Malcolm hardly speak 
to each other when they meet, though I can’t 
guess what’s up between them. Malcolm goes 
the pace kinder hard, but he’s a rare good 


“ They cant fool Me !” 225 

fellow, and I’m darned if I ever thought an 
Englishman could be such good company. — 
Your affectionate Uncle Tom. 

■ “ P.P.S. — I’ve bought a new hat, also some 
fine store clothes. You won’t know me when 
I come back. The old lady has grown very 
civil to me, and says she can’t part with me 
yet. Best love to all.” 

Bessie slowly re-read every word, each moment 
her face growing paler as she, with difficulty, 
gathered the sense of what was written. The 
revulsion of feeling from triumph to bitter 
abasement had been so sudden that even yet 
she could not realise her position. Suddenly, 
with a long, bitter cry, came the words, — 

“ He is only fooling me. He will not keep 
his promise ! ” 

Letting her head fall forward upon her breast, 
she caught her breath in great, hard sobs, 
her wide-open, tearless eyes bent, sightless, 
upon the black mane of her chestnut, while 
her hands fell hopeless and helpless upon her 
knees. 

It was supper-time in Bessie’s home. The 
cold winter’s evening had closed in, and 
P 


226 The Ante t'i can Duchess 

the family sat round the long table over the 
last and most pleasant meal of the day. Will 
Bell had not yet returned, and Bessie sat before 
the big coffee-boiler, dispensing the hot fluid 
to the many little sisters and brothers who sat 
expectant about her, having already attended 
to the needs of her handsome, stalwart father, 
and her pretty, little, fragile mother, sitting 
nestling to his side. 

“ Where’s AVill ? ” demanded the former, look- 
ing towards his vacant place. Mrs Barmore had 
already wondered at his absence, but something 
in Bessie’s expression warned her not to put 
this question to her. 

“ I guess he’ll be in directly,” the girl 
answered, with affected carelessness. Her 
mouth grew harder as she spoke, and she 
turned abruptly to frown down the impor- 
tunities of the child next her, who was clam- 
ouring for more sugar. 

At this moment the door opened and Bell 
entered and seated himself in sulky silence. 
Bessie, without speaking to him, poured out 
his tea, and pushed it towards him. His 
place was next her at the table, and Mrs 
Barmore’s quick eyes noted the savage look 
he cast the girl sidewise under his eyelids, as 


They cant fool Me / 227 

lie drew closer liis cup, and plunging his spoon 
therein, stirred up the sugar violently. On 
entering, he had gone to deposit his hat and 
whip on a bench at the side of the room ; 
Bessie glanced over there now, and saw that 
her parcel was also placed there, underneath 
his soft felt hat. He was still in his big riding- 
boots, which were splashed to the knee as if 
he had ridden very hard, and his fece looked 
flushed with the exercise he had taken. “ I guess 
he is in a rage now,” Bessie thought, glaneing 
at his heavy, lowering expression. At this 
moment Mr Barmore asked him where he had 
been, and not waiting for any reply went on 
with, — 

“ I thought you and Bessie were riding 
together this afternoon ? ” 

Bessie trembled as she saw the dangerous 
flash in Bell’s eyes, as he turned and looked 
full at her. 

“ So we were,” he answered gruffly. 

Mrs Barmore, keenly sensitive to the dis- 
turbed mental atmosphere about her, here 
hastily interposed with a demand upon her 
big, kind husband’s attention, saying she was 
eold and needed a shawl. This was enough 
for Tom Barmore ; throwing his arm lovingly 


2 28 The American Duchess 

about the slender little figure of bis wife, he 
drew her fondly against his side, at the same 
time telling one of the little girls to run and 
fetch the old black-and-white-checked shawl 
which had been forgotten in the parlour. 
AVhen it came, he rose, and wrapped it care- 
fully about the clever little woman, who had 
known so well how to keep her simple giant 
always her devoted slave and lover, and saying 
to her that it was warmer for her in the 
parlour, led her carefully from the room, re- 
turning a minute later for her tea, which re- 
mained unfinished on the table. 

As the door closed behind the elder couple 
Will Bell raised his head, and gave a look, 
full of menace and meaning, at Bessie. 

“Send these brats away,” he muttered, 
through his closed teeth. 

Bessie tossed her head defiantly, and met 
his eyes in a look of bold contempt. 


“ They’ll 

go when tea is 

finished^ 

, not 

before,” she 

answered, at the 

same 

time 

beginning to 

rise from the table. 



“No, you 

don’t.'' His voice 

came 

in a 


whisper, hoarse with rage, as he seized her 
wrist and held her prisoner beside him. 

“Let me go.” She strove to free her arm 


“ They cant fool Me ! " 229 

from his vice-like grip. “ Let me go, I say,” 
she muttered sulkily. His fingers closed 
ti<diter yet, and he rose and stood facing 
her. 

“ Do you mean to tell me you dare accept 
presents of gloves from another man, when 
you are engaged to me? Damn you!” he 
added, sotto voce, glaring down into her face, 
and violently shaking the arm he held. 

Seeing that the case was desperate, Bessie 
assumed an air * of calm which she was far 
from feeling. She' responded to his fierce 
look with a cold stare of contempt. 

“You see here. Will Bell,” she said, in a 
hard voice, her throat grown dry with fear, 
“ you see, here ; I am tired of you and your 
nonsense, and I don’t mean to be the slave 
of any man living. You can get back home 
as soon as you like, you . . 

“ Do you dare to tell me that ? Do you 
dare ? ” 

“ Yes, I do dare, and you can go as soon as 
you like, too, and get out of here,” she added 
brutally. 

“ By God ! I think I’ll kill you ! ” 

With his disengaged hand he seized the 
back of her graceful neck, compelling her to 


230 The American Duchess 

bow her bead, as a lovely flower bent by a 
furious wind. She felt his fingers about her 
throat, saw his gleaming eyes — fierce, burning 
— close to her own, felt his breath coming like 
fire upon her check, and trembled as she 
remembered that men, before now, had killed 
women for less than he supposed her guilty 
of against liim. He had left her wrist, and 
now his other hand closed upon her throat, 
marking the delicate flesh with its strangling, 
maniacal fingers. 

The children, until now, had supposed the 
scene one of horseplay, and looked on amused. 
Now, suddenly, fear seized the one nearest, 
who could see Bessie’s blanched face with 
its look of agonised terror, and she jumped 
screaming to her feet. In a moment all the 
others did the same, their laughter changed 
to terror by some electric shock of sympathy 
and the quiet tea-room became a very pande- 
monium. The sounds recalled A¥ill Bell to 
himself. Lingeringly his cruel fingers relaxed 
their hold as if loth to lose their promised 
vengeance. With a curse he freed himself from 
the children clamouring about him, and with- 
out another look at Bessie, he strode to a 
Ficiich window, flung it open, and disappeared 


231 


“ They cant fool Me !” 

liatless into the darkness of the winter’s 
night. 

Bessie sank, cold, and shivering violently, 
into her seat ; the children clustered wildly 
curious about her. Suddenly, overcome by 
the sense of relief she experienced at her 
escape, she bowed her head upon her arms, 
and sobbed hysterically. 

“ Go and tell father to come here.” She 
had ceased crying, and turned a tearful face 
upon a little brother who stood by, awestruck 
to see her weep. 

As the child ran to do her behest, she rose 
and crossed the room. Pitching aside Bell’s hat 
with a contemptuous gesture, she took up the 
duke’s packet of gloves and opened it. No 
letter was within the pretty box, only the 
long, dainty gloves in their various tints, 
crammed back in wild disorder by Bell’s 
jealous hands. 

“ I wonder if he knew tvho sent them ? ” she 
thought. Then, with a sigh of relief, she 
remembered that there could not have been a 
letter, as she had told De Montfort not to 
write one. 

The door opened and her father entered the 
room, 


The American Dtuhess 


232 

Ten o’clock liad struck. Bessie lay tossing 
upon her bed, her cheeks feverish, and eyes 
brilliant with excitement, round her neck a 
wet handkerchief was bound, but it had not 
removed the dark marks of Will Bell’s murder- 
ous fingers. Mrs Barmore, her shawl drawn 
tight about her frail body, sat at her daughter’s 
side, silent and perturbed. The clock ticked 
on loudly, no other sound disturbed the silence 
save now and then Bessie’s impatient stirring of 
the bedclothes. 

“Hark!” she cried suddenly, “there’s the 
sound of a horse coming up to the porch.” 

They both listened eagerly, Bessie springing 
bare-foot to the window and throwing it wide. 

“ He’s gone,” she whispered back to her 
mother, ‘ ‘ I can see him in the moonlight, 
galloping down the yard.” 

They both turned their heads as the door 
opened admitting Tom Barmore. 

“ I gave him your message, Bessie, and 
forbade him to set foot in this house again,” 
he said simply. “ How are you, my girl ? ” 
The old giant put his arm around the lithe, 
tall figure of his daughter, and kissed her 
affectionately, where she stood near the still 


“ They cant fool Me !’ 


233 


opi‘11 window. “Come, youdl sure catch cold,” 
he said, and with his arm still about her, he 
closed the window and led her back to bed. 
Bessie flung herself in a sitting attitude on 
to the side of the couch, near her anxious 
mother. 

“ Father,” she asked earnestly, “ are you 
real sure he’ll never come back ? I want to 
be certain he’s gone. You ride into town 
first thing in the morning, and let the folks 
know I’ve given him the mitten, and find out 
if he took the seven o’clock train.” 

“ Don’t you fuss, child, Jake’s got orders to 
take his traps after him before it’s light. He’s 
gone, safe enough. Now, you, come along.” 
He had turned towards his wife, and putting 
his arm round her, drew her from the room. 
“ Good-night, Bess,” he called out as he closed 
the door with a loud bang. 

When they were gone, Bessie, with her 
hand upon her throat, as if to protect it from 
attack, sat thinking deeply for some time. 
Then her brows suddenly drew together in a 
fierce frown. Rising from the bed, she threw 
a warm, woollen dressing-gown about her, 
then, searching in the pocket of her dress 
for Tom’s, letter, she drew it out and seated 


234 The American Duchess 

herself near the lamp to read it, her hare 
feet hastily thrust into her slippers. She read 
the part about the duke and Kitty over several 
times, her face pale and mouth set hard. 

“Now Fm free,” she muttered, “they shall 
see. They can’t fool ?ne.” 

She drew her writing desk to her and began 
a letter, her pen scratching noisily as if join- 
ing its menaces with her own, her face very 
pale and resolute. 

“ They’ll see,” she muttered ; “ they’ll see.” 


CHAPTER XII 


LOVE 

“ My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 

My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 

The more I have, for both are infinite.’* 

William Shakespeare. 

{Romeo and Juliet, Act II.) 

“My dear,” said Mrs Van Eyck to Kitty, 
“ when do you think the duke will declare 
himself? ” 

Kitty blushed painfully and remained silent, 
looking into the fire. They were seated together 
in the library over their afternoon tea, having 
just returned from a cold, dull drive in the 
Park. 

Mrs Van Eyck was growing anxious. She 
was well assured of the duke’s affection for 
Kitty, and had lost no opportunity of throwing 
them together on every possible and impos- 
sible occasion. For nearly a month she had 
daily looked for De Montfort’s declaration, 
and, knowing that society was watching her 

??5 


236 The American Duchess 

niaiiceuvres and their result with jealous ex- 
pectancy, began to feel some mortification when 
her friends daily clustered about her, begging 
to be told if they might yet present their 
congratulations. 

Kitty stirred her tea nervously, blushing 
still, and looked into the blaze before her. 
She wished her grandmother would desist 
from questioning her. For some reason, un- 
defined even to herself, she felt sad. She no 
longer concealed from herself that she loved 
De Montfort, and she felt assured that, ever 
since the summer days clovm South, he had 
loved her ; it comforted her to feel that he 
had been the first to love, and a shy shame 
almost overpowered her when she was com- 
pelled to acknowledge to herself that she 
returned his love with all the passionate 
warmth of her Southern nature. 

Something, however, in his manner filled 
her with a vague sadness ; instead of the 
triumphant joy of love, conscious of reciproca- 
tion, she felt depressed in his presence ; she 
divined that, for some unexplained reason, he 
suffered, and that her presence near him 
intensified this suffering. De Montfort, for 
the first time in his life, felt honestly 


Love 


237 


ashamed of liis conduct. Instead of having 
from the beginning avoided Kitty since they 
had met again in New York, he knew he 
had, weakly and criminally, delighted in 
every excuse society, or her grandmother,, 
gave him to be near her. At first he had 
salved his conscience with the sophism that 
he was indifferent to her, but lately he had 
felt that he could no longer protend this. 
Showing her every attention, monopolising 
her in society, never losing an opportunity 
of being at her side, he knew that he had 
rendered her conspicuous, and made her food 
for gossip and speculation for everyone at 
the clubs, and in the boudoirs of the New 
York social world. He knew there was only 
one honourable course left him, which was 
to make her his wife ; but since the advent 
of Bessie’s letter, he had begun to realise 
that this was impossible — Bessie, herself, would 
never permit it. He felt that she had but 
to speak, and all Kitty’s innocent love for 
him would be shattered at one blow, founded 
as it was upon false premises. She believed 
him to personify her ideal of all that was 
noble, good and true. De Montfort knew 
this, and bowed his head upon his hands, as 


238 The Amei'ican Duchess 

he had to confess himself abjectly weak, 
cowardly and false. 

Mrs Van Eyck glanced at the girl’s averted 
face, and saw the little white hand steal up 
and spread itself as a screen between them, 

“What is the matter, child?” 

“Nothing,” came the quick reply; but the 
old woman thought she could detect tears in 
the voice which made it. Becoming surprised 
and suspicious, she demanded sharply, her 
own voice trembling in her anxiety, — 

“You don’t mean to tell me, Kitty, that 
you have refused him ? Speak at once. What 
do you mean . . . ? ” 

“ Oh, no.” 

The words were spoken low, and Kitty, in 
her misery at this cross-examination, let fall 
her fan. As she bent to repossess herself of 
it, the door was thrown open, and the duke 
himself announced. 

Mrs Van Eyck looked inexpressibly relieved. 
De Montfort came forward and greeted them 
both with his usual pleasant manner, assum- 
ins an ease which he was for from feeling. 
The room bad not yet been lighted, and the 
fire-glow filled it with a charming sense of 
warmth and comfort. The duke advanced to 


Love 


239 


where Mrs Van Eyck, with both hands ex 
tended in her delight at seeing him, was 
greeting him with effusive politeness ; then he 
turned towards Kitty, and looking down upon 
her where she sat before the fire, silently 
took her proffered hand in both his own, 
whilst his eyes sought her upturned face 
with a glance more eloquent than any 
words. 

A moment later, Kitty, blushing, withdrew 
her hand, and bent her head to hide the con- 
fusion she felt. 

De Montfort turned to address Mrs Van 
Eyck ; as he did so, the door closed softly. 
The old lady had been far too experienced to 
intrude her company upon them at this 
juncture. 

The bright flames of the Liverpool coals 
had died down, leaving nothing but the red 
glow of the fire. Kitty was still sitting 
where she had been, before De Montfort’s 
entrance, and he had thrown himself into a 
corner of the lounge beside her. They were 
silent ; but each felt that this silence was 
fraught with greater significance than any 
words could have expressed. Kitty’s heart 


240 7 Vie American Duchess 

beat wildly as Ids Land stole warmly over 
Ler own, and his voice whispered, very low, — 
“ Kitty.” 

He had drawn close, she felt a sense of 
delicious vertigo as his breath fell upon her 
neck ; her blushing face bent lower still. 
In another moment the temptation overcame 
him ; the silence, the heavy perfume of the 
flowers about them, which intoxicated, the 
soft warmth of the fire, which caressed the 
delicious obscurity of the dusk which en- 
vironed them— everything tended to destroy 
any feeble good resolutions which he had 
made to assuage his tortured conscience. As 
he bent all too near her, his eyes devouring 
the exquisite curve of her throat now exposed 
in all its loveliness by the turn of her averted 
face, he lost all control over himself, and 
bending yet a little nearer fastened his lips 
in a long, passionate kiss just below her little 
ear. Kitty trembled violently at this burning 
contact ; involuntarily her fingers closed closer 
upon his, her head drew towards him, and her 
breath caught itself in a little frightened gasp ; 
she felt she could not move, she felt compelled 
by some delicious mesmerism to I’emain passive 
as if enchained in a -sweet nightmare. De 


Love 241 

Montfort’s arm had stolen about her shoulders 
he was kneeling by her side now, and his lips, 
grown bolder, had sealed themselves upon 
her virginal mouth. 

De Montfort had risen ; bending over Kitty, 
he half lifted her to her feet beside him. 
With his arm wound round her slender, trembl- 
ing body, he drew her nearer to the dying 
fire. 

“ Kitty,” he whispered, bending and pressing 
his kisses on her hair. “Kitty you do love 
me 1 You will . . 

“ Lord Inverness and Mr Fauntleroy.” 

Following upon the announcement of their 
names, came the two gentlemen, and a moment 
later, the footman had dispersed the delicious 
mystery of the love-filled room, by touching 
an electric button, and flooding every corner 
with rose-tinted light. 

Uncle Tom came forward and kissed Kitty’s 
burning cheek without perceiving anything un- 
usual, but Malcolm’s more delicate perceptions 
in a moment led him to divine the scene 
they had unwittingly interrupted, “ Curse 
him ! ” he thought, glancing after Kitty s 
slender, retreating figure, as upon some excuse 

9 


242 The American Duchess 

of hearing the tlressing-bell, she fled from the 
room — “curse him, has it got that far.” His 
eyes sought the face of the friend who had 
once been his mentor, and whom his youthful 
imagination had formerly endowed with every 
noble and manly attribute. The other, know- 
ing himself under scrutiny, drew himself to 
his height, returned Malcolm’s glance with one 
of haughty coldness, and turning to Uncle 
Tom, said, without considering what he was 
saying, or what Tom’s answer might import 
to him, — 

“Well, old fellow, have you heard from your 
people in the South lately.” 

“ Yes,” answered Tom, innocently, “ and I 
have a letter for you.” 

De Montfort’s face paled as he recognised 
Bessie’s bold hand ; he hated Malcolm at this 
moment, for he, too, had seen the writing. 

“ I am afraid I must leave you fellows,” he 
said hastily, “ as I have to dine with friends.” 

A moment later Tom and Inverness found 
themselves alone. 

When Kitty had reached her room, she dis.- 
missed her maid, and throwing herself into her 
great lounging- chair beside the fire, burst into a 


Love 


243 


passion of tears. The revulsion of feeling had 
been too much for her already tired nerves. 
She remained with her face buried in lier hands 
for many minutes, and was so engrossed in her 
own thoughts that she did not perceive the 
door open to admit her grandmother. 

“ My dear,” began the elder woman in a tone 
of great anxiety. “ My dear Kitty, what has 
happened ? Have you refused the duke ? ” 
she added hastily, a sudden fear seizing her. 
“ Tell me,” she urged, as the girl remained 
silent. 

“No, grandmother. . . .” 

“ Hasn’t he proposed ? ” 

“ Not really . . . yet . . .” she added sadly. 

“ You mean, I .suppose, that he was prevented 
by Lord Inverness coming in ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

Then Kitty roused herself, determined to 
stop this questioning. 

“Please leave me, grandmother; I really 
want to think and to be alone. 

Mrs Van Eyck saw the wisdom of comply- 
ing, and, advising Kitty to sleep for an hour, 
swept her trailing velvets from the room. 

When the door had closed after her, Kitty 
arose, locked it, and threw herself upon a 


244 American Duchess 

couch. There had come smiles now instead 
of tears, and her eyes were beaming with 
happiness. Bur3’ing her face in the soft 
cushions to hide her blushes even from the 
inanimate objects about her, she murmured, — 
“ He does love me ; I know it now. I 
know it . . . Oh, I know it. . . 


CHAPTER XIII 

“MARRY YOU, AND NOT FIRST TELL PARA ! * 

‘‘Did I seek Love? Not so; Love led me along by the 
hand. 

Love beguiled me with songs and caresses, while I took no 
note of the land. 

And lo ! I stood in a quicksand, but Love had wings and 
he fled. 

Ah fool, for a mortal to venture where only a god may 
tread.’’ 

Anne Deeve Aldrich. 

De Montfort strode down Mrs Van Eyck’s 
stoop in no enviable frame of mind ; be knew 
he had been mean and cowardly and, hating 
himself because of his latest actions, he yet 
had not the courage to arrest his course to 
keep his word to Bessie, leaving Kitty in 
peace. The frosty evening air met him with 
its bracing influence ; he had been used to 
enjoy it, but now he shivered and went 
on faster up the avenue towards his hotel. 
Locked in his room, he drew from his inner 
pocket Bessie’s letter, and read it, standing 
still in his overcoat and hat. Crushing tho 

Z4S 


246 The American Duchess 

paper fiercely, as he finished the reading of 
it, he tlirust it, crumpled, into a pocket, and 
going to the sideboard, poured out some 
brandy and drank it. Then, removing his 
hat and coat, he threw himself into a chair 
and began to re-read the letter, with frequent 
pauses to think. 

“It is impossible,” he exclaimed aloud; “I 
cannot do it. ...” Springing from his chair, 
he began pacing the length of the apartment. 
. . . “ If I could persuade Kitty,” he thought, 
“if not . . 

He continued his walk to and fro. Suddenly 
he stopped. 

“I’ll see her to-night,” he thought, “at 
the ball. She shall decide for me.” 

His brow cleared, and he looked relieved ; 
his resolution was finally taken, and Kitty 
herself should decide his fate for him. 
Should she consent to his plans all would 
be well — so he told himself — forgetting that 
nothing born of dishonour and bred in deceit 
can ever be well. 

At dinner Mrs Van Eyck wisely regained 
from seeming to notice that Kitty appeared 
pale an4 abstracted, It was the night of 


Marry You, and not first tell Papa !'' 247 

Mrs -De Peyster’s ball, and the wise old lady 
determined that it should not be from want 
of aid from herself that the duke should lack 
a further opportunity of seeing Kitty alone. 
^‘To-night shall decide his fate,” she thought, 
glancing, unobserved at the girl sitting silent 
and preoccupied beside her. 

To Kitty, the events of the day, since the 
coming of De Montfort, appeared some dream. 
She could not believe in their reality, and, 
oblivious of her grandmother and her sur- 
roundings, sat wrapt in sweet abstraction. 

“ Should she see him to-night ? and would 
he tell her? . . The memory of his kiss 
returned ; she shivered slightly. • 

“ I hope you have not caught a chill, my 
dear ? ” from her grandmother, brought her 
errant spirit back again into the realms of 
prosaic reality. 

“ Kitty, will you give me this valse ? ” 

The duke spoke very low, with a tone of 
caress in his voice, as he bent above her 
where she stood beside Mrs Van Eyck. They 
had only just arrived, and De Montfort had 
been watching near his hostess for their . 
ponaing alpaost; sinpe the opening of the ball, 


248 The American Duchess 

“Will you, clear f” Something in liis ^ 
eyes made her heart beat, as it had done 
when he knelt beside her chair, his arms 
encompassing her, his lips upon her own. 
For a moment she felt as if she would fall, 
and her limbs almost refused their office, as, 
leaning upon his arm, he led her to the 
ballroom. 

“ My darling,” he whispered, pressing the 
hand within his arm, against his side. They 
were in the throng outside the b;dlroom ; 
Kitty shrank closer to him. It was, as if 
they two moved in a world apart, the people 
about them being but an accident. It seemed 
a dream, still — the commencement of some 
sweet enchantment. 

“Do not let us waste time any. longer 
here,” he said, in one of the pauses in the 
raise, “ I must speak to you ; I have w^aitcd 
all night for the chance to tell you all I 
wanted to when we were interrupted. Come 
along,” he added, holding her closer still to 
him for a moment as they stopped; then, 
giving her his arm, he led her into a small 
room filled with plants and flowers, and 
seated her upon a lounge behind a high bank 
of pink azaleas. Placing himself beside her, 


“ Marry You, and not first tell Papa I ” 249 

he drew her to him, and again his lips 
sought hers in a long, passionate kiss. 

Love had come to Kitty as a surprise, had 
she been less innocent and more worldly, De 
Montfort’s influence could not have gained so 
great an ascendency over her. She had no 
longer any will of her own ; she loved him 
with the blind, unquestioning idolatry which 
some women — though rarely Americans — be- 
stow upon a man. His will had become her 
law, and in her sight he could do no wrong. 

De Montfort was not slow to perceive the 
advantage he had gained, and determined to 
bend Kitty to the accomplishment of the 
ends he had in view. Bessie, in her last 
letter, had threatened to come to New 
York and tell Kitty everything. Should this 
happen, De Montfort judged rightly, 'Kitty 
would be lost to him ; therefore he had 
formed a plan, by which he hoped, with 
Kitty’s unconscious aid, to outwit Bessie, 
and make the girl he loved his wife. Under 
the influence of his passion for Kitty, he 
had become so enthralled that his promises 
to Bessie, his pledged word, honour — all were 
forgotten ; all the energies of his mind were 
centred upon one thought — to, make Kitty 


250 The American Duchess 

his wife, and let the future take care of 
itself. Could he but compass this, nothing 
else need count with him. Unbridled passion, 
once suffered to get the ascendency of a 
man’s nature, in a weakly, self - indulgent 
character, is capable of instigating him to 
any meanness, spurring him forward to any 
dishonour. 

“Marry you, and not first tell papa! ” 

For a moment De Montfort’s new gained 
power trembled in the balance. He watched 
her keenly. 

“ Darling, you know my horror of scenes 
and fuss. You know your grandmother and 
— well, I think your great love for me ” — his 
voice became caressing — “should enable you to 
look at the matter from my point of view. 
We could be quietly married. I know a 
clergyman here who would be only too pleased 
to carry out my wishes.” He did not tell her 
that he would have to lie about her age, and 
she knew nothing of such things. “ Once 
married, nothing w'ould remain for us but 
the congratulations of all our friends. . . 

“ But Dad . . . ? ” commenced Kitty. De 
Montfort’s face changed colour ; he compressed 
his lips, as he interrupted hastily, — = 


Marry You, and not first tell Papa /” 251 

“ He will be the first to miderstand ; he is 
very fond of me, too ; you know that yourself, 
Kitty, don’t you % ” 

He looked earnestly into her shy, question- 
ing eyes, he saw the trouble there, but his 
selfishness compelled him to continue the 
sophistries by which he hoped to gain her 
reluctant consent to his project. He knew 
she would never give it willingly as her nature 
was so frank and open ; that it would need 
his every argument to persuade her to do any- 
thing about which there could be the least 
question of right and wrong. He frowned as 
this conviction forced itself upon him. He 
felt the hand so confidingly left in his become 
cold ; even through her glove, its chill struck 
him. This should have warned him not to 
trifle with her love ; ' to such a character as 
hers, once the object of its affection is shown 
in less noble colours than those with which, in 
the full trust of its faith and innocence it 
has invested it, it becomes worthless, or worse, 
hateful and repulsive. 

Kitty shivered slightly ; a strange revulsion 
of feeling had been occasioned in her by his 
words. By an electric chord of sympathy he 
divined this change in her. His eyes were 


7^2 The American Duchess 

bent upon her with a fierce light in them ; 
Bessie’s threat recalled itself to his mind. In 
order to quench Kitty’s fears, his voice took 
on a tone of indifference. “You know, dear, 
your father cannot possibly object to our 
marriage. 

He was thinking how absurd it was to 
have to plead with her thus. Any other girl, 
he thought, would not have hesitated. 

“ But, at least, let me write to Dad and ask 
his permission,” pleaded Kitty. 

For a moment his quick temper threatened 
an outburst. Controlling himself, he said, 
with forced calmness, — ■ 

“Kitty, forgive me, but I must beg you 
to do nothing of the kind. Remember you 
have promised me now,” he went on, speci- 
ously, sinking his voice very low. He had 
drawn close to her again. Experience taught 
him that contact with one she loves makes a 
woman very weak to resist his influence. 
“ Kitty, I shall not believe you love me at 
all. . . .” He looked into her eyes, and pas- 
sionately kissed the cold little hand, which 
he had released from its long glove, then 
held it between both his own and went on 
with his arguments. 


“ Marry You, and not first tell Papa I ” 253 

Kitty icmcmbered her father and Nan, and 
fur a moment the old home influence seemed 
about her once more. Viewed in the light of 
wishing her to deceive them both, he seemed 
changed. Could this be her hero who was so 
true and upright that he could do no wrong ? 
Yet, was it wrong after all which he desired 
of her ? She knew her grandmother wished 
this marriage, and, as De Montfort carefully 
pointed out to her, Mrs Van Eyck must be 
certain of Mr Fauntleroy’s consent, since she 
gave himself such encouragement. The poor 
girl became confused as she listened to De 
Montfort ’s word^s. She loved him ; she longed 
to do as he wished ; it was so hard to refuse 
his first request; and yet ... and yet. . . . 
She felt ready to cry with the bitterness of 
it all, and great tears filled her eyes. De 
Montfort kissed them away before they could 
fall, saying, — 

' “You are tired, darling. I think I have 
proved clearly enough that I am asking 
nothing but what is right and reasonable of 
you. Vou are going to be my wife — you 
know you are” — he was watching her again 
narrowly, and paused for her to speak, then 
resumed — “ and why should we not be 


254 American Duchess 

married quietly, instead of with all the 
parade and nonsense of a fashionable wed- 
ding.” He caught' his breath as she raised 
her eyes to his, half in acquiescence. “ If 
you only knew what I am trying to save 
you from. ...” 

He bent and kissed her with fierce earnest- 
ness. Under the influence of this contact, 
she felt her resolution giving way ; as his lips 
at length released her, he whispered, with a 
triumphant sense that the battle was won, — 

“ Darling, it is setttled then ; we shall be 
married as soon as I can see the clergyman.” 
He spoke in a tone as if nothing remained to 
be discussed. 

Overcome by the spell of his kiss, she 
rested, her eyes closed, and head leaning 
against the back of the couch, so still, that 
for a moment, he wondered if she had fainted. 
He bent closer to her. 

“You hear me, pet?” he whispered, taking 
her hand. It was warm now, and the fingers 
closed on his. 

“ Yes, I hear. . . .” 

She started as, at that moment, someone 
entered the room behind them.' It was Uncle 
Tom. 


“ Marry You, and not Jird tell Papa / ’ 255 

“Kitty, don’t be frightened, dear, but I’m 
come to fetch you. Your grandmother has 
fainted and been taken home. I thought I 
had better come to tell you at once.” 

De Montfort had started to his feet, some- 
thing very like an oath strangled in his 
throat, as Tom came upon them. Controlling 
himself with difficulty, he said, handing her 
back her glove, — 

“ Allow me to take you to the carriage.” 

Tom fell naturally into the rear. Glancing 
to see that he was not listening, the duke 
bent, and whispered, — 

“ I have your promise, remember ; let 
nothing tempt you to speak.” 

As he raised his head, he frowned ; his 
eyes had encountered those of Malcolm who 
was coming towards him. 

As the tall, soldierly figure came nearer, 
De Montfort again whispered, — 

“Remember.” 

He had no time for more ; Malcolm, a 
troubled look upon his fair, handsome face, 
his grave, blue eyes fixed upon Kitty, said, 
in a voice of forced calm, his brows contract- 
ing as if with pain, as he spoke, — 

“ I am sorry to trouble you, De Montfort, 


256 The American Duchess 

but business requires that I sliould speak to 
you to-night.” The duke bit his lip, and 
flashed an angry look upon him. “ Shall I 
come to your hotel, or where will be most 
convenient ? ” 

Malcolm spoke quietly, but his eyes were 
upon the face of the girl he worshipped. His 
heart beat faster as he saw, with quick in- 
tuition, that Kitty was unhappy. Looking at 
her with some concern,-— 

“I hope you are not disturbed over Mrs 
Van Eyck,” he said to her kindly. “ I have 
taken her home and she is recovered now. 
The doctor says there is no danger.” 

Kitty raised her lovely eyes to his, half- 
ashamed ; she knew she had not been think- 
ing of her grandmother, and her frank nature 
made her dislike a misconception, even of so 
slight a kind. Here the duke, inwardly 
raging at this interruption said, coldly, — 

“ I can spare you five minutes at my 
hotel in half-an-hour. Now, perhaps, you will 
permit us to take Miss Fauntleroy to her 
carriage.” 

Kitty, startled at the unkindness of his tone, 
raised her eyes again with a pitying expression 
to Malcolm’s face. She had known them such 


“ Marry You, and not first tell Papa / ” 257 

inseparable friends, and she was puzzled and 
pained at the estrangement which, ever since 
her arrival in New York, she had observed 
between them. 

“ Perhaps Miss Fauntleroy will allow me to 
come, too,” Malcolm rejoined quietly, taking 
his place beside Uncle Tom and following the 
other two. 

The duke walked on with Kitty in silence, 
inwardly raging at Malcolm, and cursing what 
he styled to himself the other’s “ damned 
impertinence.” 

Uncle Tom followed Kitty into the carriage, 
and De Montfort, as if to shut out Malcolm 
from her view, said his adieus standing, his 
shoulders filling the window. Kitty remember- 
ing something in Malcolm’s expression which 
appealed to her and regretting De Montfort’s 
brusque manner towards him, was wishing to 
say good-night to him, and felt quite glad 
when, on the opposite side of the carriage, he 
appeared to De Montfort’s great disgust. She 
held out her hand to him ; it was that which 
the duke had ungloved. Malcolm’s blood 
coursed faster as her little warm palm touched 
his own, and he could not refrain from return- 
ing her frank grasp with a strong pressure. 

R 


258 The American Duchess 

Kitty, accustomed to think of him as “only 
Malcom,” was not surprised, and smiled frankly 
in return for his “ good-night.” 

De Montfort felt an unreasoning jealousy 
as he turned back into the house and the 
carriage drove away. Malcolm, lighting a 
cigar, walked off quickly up the avenue, a 
prey to bitter thoughts, which clouded his 
handsome, aristocratic face, and made him look 
older than his age. Kitty’s face was before 
him ; he thought of her as he had first seen 
her, in her pink frock and pretty ruffled sun- 
bonnet, heard, in fancy, her joyous laugh 
resounding through the old house, as, like the 
happy child she was, she tripped about attend- 
ing to the needs of her sick father. He had 
adored her from the first, but from the first 
she had been forbidden to him, and thus he 
had been compelled to stand aside and let 
another win her — so he had thought — until 
the surprise of De Montfort’s announcement 
of his own engagement to Bessie, made only 
on the morning of their departure, had, too 
late, left him free to win Kitty, if he could. 
Then had come this season in New York. 
When Malcolm, perceiving how the duke 
appropriated Kitty to himself, had ventured 


^59 


“ Marry Vote, and not first tell Papa /*' 

to ask De Montfort, if he were still engaged 
to Bessie, the latter had met him with a 
cowardly negative, and Malcolm, his hopes 
crushed a second time, had again retired into 
the background. 

Now, he knew that the duke had lied, and, 
worse still, had acted the dastardly part of 
winning Kitty’s heart, perhaps, while by every 
tie. he was in honour bound 'to Bessie. Know- 
ing that a great catastrophe threatened Kitty, 
Malcolm walked feverishly onwards, longing, 
yet impotent, to avert the coming misery from 
her innocent head. Coming to the duke’s hotel, 
he entered, and went into the empty reception 
room, telling a hall-boy to inform De Montfort 
that be awaited him there on the latter’s 
return. 

“ He am a mighty fine-lookin’ gen’leman. 
I done nebber see a man much handsomer,” 
reflected the simple coloured man, watching 
the tall Englishman as he paced to and fro, 
twisting the ends of his long, fair moustache, 
which, now and then, he bit fiercely between 
his even, white teeth. “ Golly, but he am ragin’ 
up an’ down like de clebble. I sh’u’dii’t wonder 
but he’s come ter fight a duel wif der dooke,” 
thought the same bell-man a quarter-of-an- 


26 o The American Dutchess 

hour later, on looking in and finding Malcolm 
still striding to and fro, his footfalls drowned 
in the heavy pile of the velvet carpet. 

“ Wyndham, nothing but a sense of duty 
would have cornpelled me to come here to- 
night.” 

They were standing in De Montfort’s rooms, 
and the latter had demanded, with little courtesy, 
the other’s business. 

“Well, don’t waste time over preliminaries. 
Pray say what you have come here to say,” 
W’^as the surly answer. 

De Montfort had thrown himself on to a lounge, 
and Malcolm remained standing near the fire. 

“ I had better tell you straight out that I 
have had a letter from Bessie.” 

De Montfort’s face paled, and he started to 
his feet with a curse. 

“ Show it to me,” he commanded, extending 
his hand for the letter. 

Malcolm drew back involuntarily, the other’s 
attitude was so threatening. 

“Pardon me,” he said coldly. “But I am 
not in the habit of betraying trust reposed 
in me. ’ He looked proudly into the duke’s face, 
its features inflamed with sullen rage. 


Marry You, and not first tell Papa ! ” 261 

“ — you ! and — her ! ” was .the response. 

“ I have come here to tell you that Bessie, 
naturally furious at the manner in which you 
have treated her, has ordered me to go to 
Kit — Miss Fauntleroy, and tell her everything. 
I have thought over the matter, and feel that, 
instead, you are the proper person to under- 
take such an explanation. Will you do it?” 

“ No ! ” thundered De Montfort, without paus- 
ing in his pacing up and down the room. 

Then ensued a dead silence for some 
moments, during which the duke had time 
to reflect. 

“ Is that your final decision ? ” asked Malcolm, 
with difficulty controlling his voice, as he 
took up his hat to leave. 

De Montfort strode on without answer, 
Malcolm walked the length of the room towards 
the door ; as he was about to open it, De 
Montfort who had made up his mind that 
he must gain time or lose Kitty forever, called 
out, — 

“I’ll tell her myself; you needn’t meddle 
further in what is no concern of yours.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


JEALOUSY 

logo. 0 beware, my lord, of jealousy j 

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock 
The meat it feeds on . . . 

William Shakespeare. 

When Tom Barmore had turned Will Bell 
out of his house, the latter had ridden straight 
to the town and stopped at the post-office. 
Knocking loudly, with the butt of his whip 
on the low wooden door. Bell waited, amidst 
the lightly-falling snowflakes, through which 
the moon at intervals showed herself, white 
and mysterious. Bell thundered loudly on 
the door a second time, and stopped to listen. 
Presently a window was opened above. 

“What’s the raeket?” cried a voice, and a 
red head stuck itself through the aperture. 
A volley of oaths was all the response he got, 
and Bell’s horse began flinging the snow in 
all directions as he felt the cruel Mexican spur, 
“I’ll be down in a second,” shouted he at 
262 


Jealousy 263 

the window, clapping it to to keep out the cold 
wind. He had recognised the oaths and the 
voice. 

A few minutes later the door opened, the 
friends greeted one another, and, after seeing 
to the needs of the horse, entered, and shut 
themselves within the house. 

“Whar’s the whusky?” Bell’s teeth chattered 
as he dashed the snow otf his rough coat. 

The red-headed one was piling the lire with 
fresh logs. This done, he rose, and put the 
whisky on the table. 

The friends had sat long into the night ; 
the whisky was all drank, and before they 
threw themselves upon the single couch the 
house contained, the red - headed one had 
sworn an oath to help his friend, and to 
do in all things as the latter had directed 
him. Next morning he had seen Bell and 
his horse into the train, together with the 
traps, brought down before daybreak by old 
Jake. When they grasped hands for the last 
time as the train moved out of the little 
depot, making the steep mountain sides echo 
again with the clanging of its great bell, the 
red-headed one said, — 


264 The American Duchess 

“You bet I’ll let yer know, and I’m just 
the first one to know about it, too.” 

“ Sure he’s gone, father ? You don’t think 
he’ll sneak back again ? ” 

Assured by her father that she had nothing 
more to fear, a light of triumph broke over 
her beautiful face ; she rose and came proudly 
towards Mr Barmore. Her breathing came 
short with excitement, her grey eyes flashed 
and appeared almost black, whilst every 
moment the rich colour of her cheeks became 
deeper, and her fingers worked convulsively, — 
“At last, at last!” was her joyful thought. 

“ Father, would you like to see me a 
duchess ? ” 

“ A what ! ” exclaimed plain Tom Barmore. 

“ Yes, a duchess.” 

She was standing before him, now, in a bold 
attitude, her hands upon her handsome hips. 

“ Bessie, ain’t you clean eraeked ? ” 

“ Father, I’ve been engaged to the duke 
ever since before he went to New York. It 
was him sent me those gloves ; I only fooled 
you, when I told you it was Uncle Tom.” 

Tom Barmore sat speechless before her, 
looking, open-mouthed, up into her triumphant 


Jealousy 265 

face. Suddenly a thought ^struck him ; he 
had tipped back his chair till it balanced on 
two legs, now it came forward with a crash. 

“ Are you quite certain, Bessie, that the 
duke’s not been fooling you ? What’s all this 
talk about him and Kitty ? ” 

In a flash, Bessie’s face changed ; her brows 
knit themselves into the blaekness of a thunder- 
cloud, and all the triumph died away. 

“ I’d have fixed that long ago if I could 
have spoken, but I was afraid of Will Bell.” 
She glanced nervously through the window, 
the memory of his fingers on her throat, where 
the marks still showed, black and cruel, and 
the hiss of his words in her ears. 

“ By God ! I’ll kill you first ! ” 

That day Bessie let it be known everywhere 
that she was engaged to the duke. She 
arrayed herself in her prettiest gown, and, 
wearing a pair of the long, light-tinted gloves 
which De Montfort had sent her, sat down, 
her hands folded in her lap, to receive all her 
friends ; these, on receipt of the news, came 
flocking, to see with their own eyes one upon 
whom Fate had bestowed so high a destiny. 
Bessie assumed a very languid air, such as 
in the story papers she had been in the habit 


266 


The American Duchess 


of devouring, had always been ascribed to 
heroines of the English aristocracy. She did 
not permit' the presence of any of her riotous 
young brothers and sisters, and even good, 
plain, old Tom Barmore found it very difficult 
to comport himself according to her ideal of 
the future father-indaw of an English duke. 
His simple little wife chanced into the wood- 
house towards evening, when the reception was 
at its height ; smelling a very strong odour 
of whisky-hot, she went quickly back to the 
kitchen to procure a light ; returned, she 
held it aloft, and discovered her worthy -old 
husband sitting astride some logs, and sheep- 
ishly wiping his lips with the back of one 
hand, whilst in the other he held the steaming 
glass. 

“ My gracious, Tom ! ” exclaimed his wife. 

“Hist, wife! I’m kinder tired of sitting 
around in my store clothes sipping lemonade. 
Golly, Kitty,” he exclaimed with earnestness, 
giving his knee a tremendous slap with his 
disengaged hand, “ I’m not so darned sure 
about dukes being the best kind of son-in- 
laws ; ’pears to me Will Bell was a mighty 
good honest sort of a coon, after all, and, great 
Scott ! couldn’t he swig down the whisky 


Jealousy 267 

straight ! I don’t know anyone ’bont here as 
could touch him at it, ’cept me, p’r’aps,” he 
added, with visible pride, glancing at Mrs 
Kitty, who still, lamp in hand, stood meekly 
regarding him. The spirit had cheered the 
old man after the depressing effects of Bessie’s 
grand reception and made him feel sociable. 

“Put down that lamp and come here,” he 
said, holding out a welcoming arm to Mrs 
Kitty. Pulling the little woman on to a seat 
on his knee, he made her take a considerable 
sip of his hot drink. “ Don’t be afraid, there’s 
plenty more where that came from,” he laughed, 
pointing her to where, at his side, stood a big 
pitcher of boiling water and the keg of whisk3^ 
“Now, don’t you kinder think we’re a heap 
more comfortable here. Miss Kitty ? ” Here 
he gave her a bear-like embrace and several 
resounding kisses. “ Yes, indeed,” he went 
on, taking a long breath, “a mighty darned 
, heap more comfortable than those ones up there 
at the grand reception.” 

He opened his big coat and made Mrs Kitty 
cuddle inside close to his great, kind heart. 
She had been running around all day like a 
little frightened mouse, trying to carry out 
Bessie’s multitudinous orders. Warmed by the 


268 


The American Dtichess 


comfortable care of her husband, she nestled, 
like a child, against his breast, and, of all 
the people in the house that evening, those 
two were the most to be envied. 

Later in the day, when Bessie’s parlour be- 
came so close and warm from overcrowding that 
it was difficult to remain any length of time 
within in comfoit, there arrived yet another 
guest. Grinning with a malicious leer at 
Bessie as she sat in state, he stood by the 
door, looking across the shoulders of those 
about him. He appeared much diverted by 
all he saw, nudging the men in his vicinity, 
and making remarks, far from complimentary, 
upon Bessie, the occasion, and the company 
generally. Scratching his red head, he presently 
turned to leave, muttering, — 

“ I guess my lady duchess will wish she’d 
laid low a while longer soon. I wouldn’t be 
in her shoes, anyhow.” 

He had not forgotten the cut she gave her 
horse out in the road before the post office 
that day the gloves came from New York. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE MORNING AFTER THE BALE 

“At first, though mute, she listen’d, like a dream. 

Seem’d all he said ; nor could her mind, whose beam 
As yet was weak, penetrate half bis scheme. 

But when, at length, he uttered, ‘ Thou art she ! ’ 

All flash’d at once, and, shrieking piteously, — 

‘ Oh, not for worlds ! ’ she cried.” 

Thomas Moore. 

On the morning after the ball, Kitty awoke 
depressed and unrefreshed. For a girl but 
yesterday affianced, she showed little sign 
of happiness. Her first consciousness was of 
some evil impending, she knew not what. 
She lay half waking for some moments, 
dreamily disturbed, when suddenly, in a ffash, 
came the thought of the duke, and what he 
had demanded of her. She was wide-awake 
now ; her blue eyes open, her heavy, red-gold 
hair tossed off* her temples in feverish abandon ; 
sitting upright in her bed, she looked anxiously 
about her. It was nine o’clock ; she rang the 
bell for her maid. 


269 


270 The American Duchess 

“ Are there no letters ? ” she asked, when 
Marie appeared bearing her tea. 

“ None, mademoiselle.” 

At this moment, a footman called Marie, 
and gave her a note to take to her mistress. 

Somehow, the sight of the coronet it bore 
upon its envelope brought a pained expres- 
sion instead of a smile to Kitty’s lips. She 
took it and tore it open, asking herself what 
had changed her — why did not her heart beat 
joyfully to-day as on other days at sight of 
the familiar writing ? The note ran : — 

“ May I see you at eleven ? I shall call 
at that hour. I trust Mrs Van Eyck is 
better. — Yours, Chandos.” 

He was coming, then ; he must be in earnest 
in what he had said last night. Kitty looked 
wretchedly about the room ; she thought of 
her father and Nan — if she might only tell 
them ! Even tell Uncle Tom ; his calm, hand- 
some face, familiar as the other two, came 
before her. The others were absent ; but he 
was here, at her elbow, her natural protector, 
to be appealed to on the eve of such a 
solemn decision as that, which, in two short 


The Morning after the Balt 

hours, she would be called upon to make. 
Remembering her father, Nan, her home, all 
the familiar faces and scenes from which she 
was being asked to part forever, the girl, 
overcome by the desolation of her position, 
suddenly threw herself down upon her pillows, 
and burst into a passion of tears. 

Marie, fortunately, was absent, and Kitty 
had her cry out alone. Then, languid and 
ill at ease, she arose and went to her bath. 

Kitty came, with lagging step, to join De 
Montfort in the library. She found him, after 
his usual irritable fashion when under strong 
excitement, pacing to and fro. On hearing 
the door open, he came quickly towards her, 
and would have folded her in his arms ; some- 
thing, however, in Kitty’s face caused him to 
pause ; he, instead, took her little cold hands 
in his own, and looked anxiously at her as 
she stood before him, weary, trembling, pale, 
with downcast eyes. 

“ I am afraid you are ill, darling ? ” he said, 
anxiously. “ Has the ball tired you like that ? ” 

He was greatly concerned ; he had never 
before seen her thus. His perceptions, though 
not of the most delicate, warned him of some 


2^2 The American Duchess 

inexplicable change in her ; the words he had 
come to say died on his lips before her. 

“What has happened, dear? A¥hat is the 
matter ? ” he urged. “ Come and sit near 
the fire ; your hands are cold.” 

Seating her, he stirred the coal into a blaz'^, 
and then knelt beside her and began chafing 
her hand. She had not smiled ; her face bore 
an expression of distress very unusual to it. 
He bent and kissed her fingers ; this seemed 
to give her courage to speak. 

“ 1 cannot do as you wish,” she said. “ I 
cannot, I cannot.” Snatching her hand from 
him, she covered her face with it and burst 
into tears. 

De Montfort, shocked and bewildered, did 
not know what to do ; he remained kneeling 
where he was beside her. “Did she mean 
that she would not be his wife at all ? 

“ Kitty,” he commenced, when her sobs 
began to abate, “ I cannot understand ; what 
do you say, dear ? ” 

“ Oh, I cannot do it,” and the sobs burst 
out afresh, “ I must tell dear old Dad.” 

The duke bit his lip. If she told Dad, that 
would be an end of everything He thought 
of Bessie, and had not the courage to face 


The Morning after the Ball 273 

the possibility of her carrying out the threats 
made in her last letter — and Malcolm, too ! he 
had also to reckon with him. He ftdt that 
Kitty was right, and knew that, had she 
acted otherwise, she would not have been his 
Kitty. Still, he would persuade her to change 
her mind. She loved him. Knowing this, he 
supposed himself to be all-pow’erful with 
her. 

“ Kitty, dear little girl, you must allow me 
to judge for you in this matter,” he began, 
watching her pale face, with its eyes wearily 
closed, lying back upon the cushion of her 
chair. She did not move, so he went on, “ It 
is only reasonable that I should wish to be 
married without all the fuss and show your 
grandmother would think indispensable.” 

Kitty gave a deep sigh ; she, child that she 
was, w'ondered whether, after all, to be 
married was not an evil rather than a good. 
She had always been so free, and now, at 
once, she felt restricted in her will to do 
w'hat she was sure was right. She had heard 
of English wives being slaves ; was she, then, 
perhaps, changing her freedom for slavery ? 
She gave a little shudder at the thought. 
De Moutfort saw, and went on hurriedly, — 

S 


:274 American Duchess 

“ It is not as if you did not know that 
your grandmother approved. . . 

Kitty opened her eyes and looked him 
straight in the face. 

“ I must, also, have my father’s approval,” 
she said, with quiet dignity. 

De Montfort’s eyes turned aside ; the 
innocent purity of her regard caused him to 
waver ; he could not meet her look. 

As he turned away his face, Kitty, no 
longer under the spell of his kisses, let her 
eyes rest upon him. Love was too new to 
her to have become a habit. His demands 
upon her irked her; love’s wings are like the 
butterfly, they are not made to stand the 
fret and tempest of everyday existence. One 
rough touch, and the glamour is destroyed ; 
this is especially true in regard to an 
innocent, inexperienced girl. In her ignorance 
of life and its realities, she demands so much 
more of perfection than it is in the power of 
any man to give. Her love is spiritual — ideal. 
To awaken her roughly from her dreams, and, 
above all, to demonstrate to her that her idol 
is capable of anything less than perfection, 
that his feet are of clay, is to destroy at one 
blow her love for him. la later life, experi- 


The Morning after the Ball 275 

enee teaches a woman to expect little and 
endure much ; but this wisdom is denied love 
ill its first blush ; it gives and exacts all. 

Kitty’s eyes, resting on De Montfort’s face, felt 
a sense of strangeness; could he be changed? 
she wondered, half unconsciously. How was 
it that, until now, she had never seen that 
hard expression in his stone-blue eyes, the 
obstinate lines which his heavy black mous- 
tache left unconcealed about his mouth ? She 
divined rather than observed these things ; 
their impression chilled her, leaving her power- 
less to analyse its cause. 

There had been silence for some moments ; 
De Montfort was lost in disagreeable reflection. 
He rose to his feet, and began poking the 
fire furiously. 

“ I really cannot understand you, Kitty.” 

He had turned towards her, his brow dark 
with sullen anger, and the poker still in his hand. 

“ Mr de Montfort ! ” exclaimed Kitty, surprised 
at the vehemence of his tone, and regarding 
him half in terror. 

For a moment, on hearing her address him 
by the familiar name, he felt inclined to laugh, 
then the remembrance of what he considered 
her “ confounded obstinacy ” made his blood 


276 The American Duchess 

boil again. She could not be in real earne.st, he 
reflected ; and yet, her fooling would certainly 
cost them their happiness. The memory of 
Bessie’s threats came to him, and with it the 
certainty of disgrace and loss of Kitty’s love. 
A muttered curse on the obstinacy of all 
womankind escaped him before he knew it, 
and he turned and began ill-treating the 
fire again, in the endeavour to cover his 
confusion at its having escaped him in her 
presence. 

Kitty, now thoroughly frightened, rose and 
was about to leave the room. 

“ No, you will not,” he cried, seizing her 
wrist with a force which hurt her. “ Kitty, 
how can you pretend to love me, and yet 
behave like this?” 

She stood before him trembling ; could this 
be the lover of yesterday ? Something in her 
terrified eyes made him half divine her 
thoughts. Eelinquishing the fierceness of his 
grasp, and trying to soften the tones of his 
voice, he said, — 

“ Forgive me, Kitty, dearest, you can’t tell 
how your refusal has maddened me. I thought 
I could have persuaded you to do as I wished 
immediately ; instead — ” 


277 


The Alorning after the Balt 

His anger flashed out again at the rcmem- 
branee of how short was the time allotted to 
him by Fate before the dreaded bolt of Bessie’s 
vengeanee should fall upon him. Kitty 
shivered as she saw the fury in his eyes, and 
made a slight movement to release herself 
from his angry grasp. 

“I am afraid I can never marry you now” 
she said tearfully. “ I could not ; I should be 
afraid,” she added, like a child. 

Malcolm, who had just been entering the 
library, having come to inquire after Mrs Van 
Eyck’s health, heard her words. A great 
screen near the door hid him from view, 
and he was about to leave the room again 
when the duke’s next words arrested him 
involuntarily. 

“Kitty, you are my promised wife; nothing 
can alter that now. As a wife, remember 
you are bound to obey me. . . 

“ I cannot,” cried Kitty, bursting into tears. 

“You shall, by G — d, you shall!” all the 
fury of his baulked passion in his voice. 

Malcolm, unable to stand more, came 
forward into the room. He silently eyed De 
Montfort, and then looked from him to the 
little figure weeping on the sofa cushions. A 


278 The American Dttchess 

look of bitter menace passed between the two 
men. 

“ I am afraid, Miss Fauntleroy, the r, ball 
last night and your grandmother’s illness 
have been too much for you ? ” he said, in 
a tone of inquiry, as he advanced and stood 
beside her, ignoring absolutely the presence 
of the duke. 

De Montfort, seeing that Malcolm was 
determined to remain, and, fearing the con- 
sequences should he trust himself to speak, 
without another word strode from the room. 

“Kitty, dear, tell me what it is that ails 
you ? ” 

Malcolm had always called her Kitty at 
home, but naturally, recently, meeting her 
chiefly in society, he had relapsed into the 
more formal mode of address. Now, the 
familiar name, spoken in Malcolm’s kindly 
voice, in tones of the tenderest solicitude for 
her, appealed forcibly to her bruised sensi- 
bilities. She timidly put forth her cold little 
hand towards him where he stood beside her, 
her face still buried in the cushions ; he took 
the hand in both his own, and sat down near 
her on the couch without speaking. He was 
thinking of Bessie’s letter^ and wondered 


The Morning afUr the Ball 279 

whether De Moiitfort Lad kept his promise. 
Silence is often more eloquent than many 
words ; Kitty felt this now. Malcolm’s 
comforting presence soothed her gradually 
into calm. Gently he chafed the little hand 
between his own, until the rose tints of its 
finger tips returned, and its whiteness regained 
its former delicate beauty. Kitty’s sobs ceased, 
and she presently raised her head. 

“That’s right,” said Malcolm pleasantly, 
pulling hard at his long moustache. “Now 
you’re all right again.” 

Kitty smiled from under her long wet 
lashes. She wondered why it was she had 
never noticed before what a kind good face 
Malcolm had. Too delicate to allude to the 
cause of her unhappiness, he strove to make 
her forget it by talking of the ball and other 
society functions in which they were mutually 
interested, and finally, thinking that his 
efforts in this direction were little better than 
a flat failure, Kitty’s sympathies appearing to 
be elsewhere, he commenced a ridiculous story 
of how a camel had run away with him into 
the desert somewhere near the Pyramids, when 
he was last in Egypt. He had succeeded in 
making her break into a hearty laugh when 


28 o The American Duchess 

Uncle Tom, wlio had slept late after the ball, 
joined them. 

“ 1 think I shall go and see how my grand- 
mother is,” said Kitty, rising, glad to make 
her escape. 

• •••#••*• 

Kitty went to Mrs Van Eyck’s door, and 
was told that the doctor had forbidden anyone 
to see his patient. This caused her much 
relief, as she dreaded being questioned re- 
garding the duke. She turned to her own 
room, and locking herself in there, sat down to 
try to analyse what were her real feelings towards 
De Montfort. 

The evening he had told her of his love 
seemed so far away now ; could it be that 
it had all happened only yesterday/? His 
character, viewed in the light of the develop- 
ments of this morning, had taken on a sinister 
colouring of which before she had never 
suspected the possibility. When she had first 
known him, she had thought him quite old, 
his thirty-six years, appearing to her childish 
ideas much the same as those of her father. 
Since she had gained a larger experience of 
the worhl, she had lost this feeling; now, 
trying to view him iij the light of her fixture 


28 i 


The Morning after the Ball 

husband, it returned upon her with redoubled 
force. When he had spoken, and looked so 
furiously at her this morning, she had 
become aware for the first time that his hair 
was whitening at the temples. His eyes, too, 
last evening so full of love’s fire, had looked 
upon her, to-day, when she finally refused to 
obey him with a cold stare, hard almost to 
hatred. 

Why had she ever promised to be his wife 
at all ? ^ Was it not because he wished, it so 
earnestly ? She had mistaken pity for love, 
and having persuaded herself that she loved 
him, had forthwith invested him with God- 
like attributes. Here, far from her home, in 
the midst of strange faces, she had naturally 
clung to his familiar one ; all these weeks he 
had shown her the deepest devotion, and her 
grandmother had never ceased singing his 
praises. She took but little real interest in 
society, and had found him a refuge from 
dulness — a confidant who, knowing her people, 
could be supposed to be sincere in the interest 
he showed in hearing of them, and in the 
affection he protested for them. His hand- 
some face and person, his polished manners 
and highly-educated mind, all had tended to 


282 


The American Duchess 


fascinate her ; even all unconsciously to herself, 
his title and great wealth had helped to throw 
a glamour about him. 

Girls think romantically of love and crusts 
in a cottage, not knowing how great is love’s 
disgust when he comes to the point of exist- 
ing on the said dry sustenance, and that 
never was there a truer adage than that which 
tells of his horrified flight by the window 
upon his viewing the entry of poverty by 
the door. Kitty was too simple and natural 
to have any of these ideas ; her plain, country 
bringing-up had left her mind as fresh as the 
field flowers amongst which she had grown to 
girlhood, and in it was no room for maukish 
sentimentality. 

She tortured her tired brain with speculation 
for nearly an hour, sitting there before her 
fire. Gradually her thoughts reverted to her 
father, to Nan, to her home, to the old fresh 
life she loved so well ; tears stole quietly 
down her cheeks and fell upon her little 
hands loosely crossed in her lap. She did not 
stir. The clock ticked on, with slow, even 
beats, producing a sense of soothing com- 
panionship ; the wood-ash fell lightly to the 
ground, leaving a glowing c^ye in the fire’s 


The Morning after the Ball 283 

midst. Kitty’s eyes closed her head sunk 
sideways upon the cushion of her chair — she 
was asleep. 

De Montfort cursed himself as he left 
Kitty’s presence. lie knew that he had played 
his cards badly ; by losing control of his temper 
he had wrecked all. Malcolm, too, he hated ; 
what affair was it of his, how dare he interfere 
in the matter at all ? The duke remembered 
his promise to Malcolm regarding Bessie, and 
a horrible fear suddenly possessed him that 
the former would think it his duty to en- 
lighten Kitty him elf. If Malcolm should 
do so now, before he could see her again, then 
his last hope of influencing her would be lost ; 
the thought added to his anger against his 
old friend. Arrived at his hotel, he told his 
servant to order his horse ; he thought some 
hard exercise might help to calm his mind 
and enable him to think out in what way he 
could best meet the present emergency. 

Kitty awoke, refreshed and calm in mind. 
She determined to devote herself to caring 
for her sick grandmother’s comfort, and to 
endure with patience all that the old lady 


. 284 The American Duchess 

should say regarding the duke. As to the 
latter, Kitty had decided to tell him that it 
was no use their being engaged, as she felt 
that she did not love him well enough to 
marry him. Most men reserve till after 
marriage the exhibition of themselves in their 
true colours ; De Montfort, however, had 
made the mistake of feeling too secure of 
Kitty’s love, and so, angered at her resistance 
of his will, had, in losing command of his 
temper, permitted her to see beneath the sur- 
face ; the discovery of his domineering disposi- 
tion — one so common amongst Englishmen 
towards their wives — had been a revelation to 
the free American girl. 

The luncheon gong sounded and she went 
downstairs, where she found Uncle Tom and 
Lord Inverness waiting for her. 

Malcolm’s expression changed from anxiety 
to relief as he saw Kitty enter the room ; he 
had expected to find her worried and dis- 
tressed, and, instead, she appeared with all 
her old-time gladness. The sight of them 
both made her happier still. She went up 
to good old Uncle Tom, and kissing him, 
then passed her hand through Malcolm’s arm, 
saying,— 


The Morning after the Ball 285 

“Come along into luncli,” and smiling back 
at Uncle Tom, led the way from the library, 
where she had found them, to the dining-room. 

Meanwhile the duke had become tired of 
galloping in the snow, and horse and rider, 
alike wearied with hard exercise, turned 
towards home. The snow’" had driven every- 
one from the Park, and he was alone, except 
for, now and again, the presence of a 
mounted policeman. 

‘Til see her again this afternoon,” he 
thought, in no wise moved from his resolu- 
tion to bend Kitty’s will to his own. 

In the pauses in his two hours’ ride, he 
nad thought over all sorts of projects, become 
more and more determined to marry Kitty at 
once ; he had even dim ideas of carrying her 
off, and making her his wife against her will, 
as his great-grandfather had done with his 
great-grandmother, when they had posted all 
the way to Gretna Green, flying from a pair 
of enraged fathers and guardians ; it had been 
a desperate venture, and the former duke had 
only saved the day by turning and shooting 
dead the horses of the following carriage 
when it had arrived at too close qnaiters to 


286 


The American Duchess 


be pleasant. Thinking of this story of his 
ancestors, De Montfort worked himself into 
an even more unreasonable state of mind 
than before ; he told himself that Kitty loved 
him, and persuaded himself that nothing but 
absurd scruples prevented her from acquiescing 
in his plans. 

“ I’ll see her this afternoon again,” he 
thought ; “ she shall consent this time.” 


CHAPTEK XVI 


M U K D E R 

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 

Unhouserd, disappointed, nuanel’d, 

No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
With all my imperfections on my head; 

Oh, horrible ! oh, horrible ! most horrible ! ” 

William Shakespeare. 

When the red-headed one found himself stand- 
ing in the cold freshness of the winter s night, 
after his visit to Bessie’s grand reception, he 
gave a wild war-whoop, and threw his fur cap 
into the air, catching it easily again by the clear 
light of the moon, smiling in calm majesty 
above him. 

“ This news will raise Will’s hair,” he said 
aloud, starting down the hill at a quick pace 
towards the town. 

“ Bessie engaged to the duke, Nan ? What 
do you mean ? ” 


287 


288 


The American Duchess 


Mr Fauntleroy looked up, surprised, as his 
sister, full of her great news, came and stood 
beside him. 

“ It’s true, George, true as shucking corn. 
Mary’s in the kitchen now ; she says Bessie’s 
been promised to him all along, but she was 
afraid to tell it because of Will Bell. Now he’s 
gone and it’s all come out. She had a grand 
reception yesterday, and Mary says she and 
Jake and Dinah, and sister Kitty too, are all 
tired waiting on the folks, there was so many of 
them came, and Bessie, all dressed out in her 
best, and a pair of those long elegant gloves on, 
and it wasn’t Tom sent them, but the duke him- 
self ; gracious, bless my soul, George, fancy me 
the aunt of a duchess ! ” 

Nan, purple from want of breath and excite- 
ment combined, sunk on to a settle near the 
wall, and stared round-eyed at her brother. 

Mr Fauntleroy gently smiled, turning an 
indulgent and affectionate glance upon her. 

“ My ! Mrs Kitty, do you suppose we’ll be 
called upon to stand on our company manners 
every day right along, till we’re made 
mother and father of a duke and duchess ? 
It’s a darned sight worse nor wearing store 


Murder 


289 

clothes and starting out to get married one- 
self,” said old Tom, lugubriously staring into 
the roaring log fire out in the wash-house, by 
the side of which. Mrs Kitty was preparing to 
boil the family linen. 

This was two days after the announcement 
of the engagement ; Bessie had kept the house 
in gala state ever since, and Mrs Kitty found 
her old man, driven from his comfortable corner 
beside the parlour fire, had taken to following 
her about “ like a tame woodchuck,” as she 
told him, laughing and trying to cheer him up 
again. 

Bessie, meanwhile, had worn out four of the 
dozen pairs of gloves shaking hands with 
everybody. She thought proper to lay aside 
all the duties she had formerly fulfilled in the 
household, and the children, relieved from her 
somewhat arbitrary sway, rushed about the 
place doing as they liked, and driving Mrs 
Kitty, her old man, and good, plain Mary 
nearly distracted. Bessie had found in cheap 
novels that the duchesses therein depicted 
always rose very late in the day. She took 
to lying in bed in the morning, therefore, and 
Mary was compelled, besides doing all her 
own and Bessie’s work, to carry up a sub- 
T 


290 'I'lie American Duchess 

stantial breakfast for Bessie, and stay waiting 
upon her half the morning, whilst Mrs 
Kitty struggled with the children below 
stairs. 

“ Mary, I wonder you dare come into my 
presence with that great flap hat tied down 
over your ears,” exclaimed Bessie, angrily, 
looking down the telescope of Mary’s immense 
hat at the kind, red face peering, bewildered, 
at her from within. 

“It was very cold milking this morning. 
Miss Bessie, and — ” 

“Call me ‘Your Highness,’ please,” said 
Bessie, with hauteur. 

“ Your Highness,” corrected Mary, meekly. 

She had always stood in some awe of 
Bessie’s tongue, and now “she was beyond 
bearing,” as the poor, faithful creature had 
told old Dinah that morning. Bessie had 
always heard that duchesses were haughty, 
and so she felt it her duty to be very haughty 
indeed, and her favourite mode of giving 
expression to it was by treading upon the 
faithful old friend of all her lifetime. 

“ Here, put down that tray, and bring me 
my writing things. Go and get some more ink 
from the parlour.” 


Mw'dev 


291 


Mary nervously precipitated the tray with 
a erash on the uncovered table. 

“ Dear me, my nerves ! ” Duchesses also had 
nerves, Bessie remembered. “ What a fool you 
are, Mary, to shock me like that. Go right 

along and get the ink. You can come back 

before dinner and fetch my tray away, and 

take my letters to father. Go and tell 

him he’s got to go to the post-office him- 
self this afternoon because they’re very 

important.” 

Mary ducked a two-days’-ago learnt curtsey 
towards the bed, her great hat making a 

dive forward at Bessie like some huge bird 

about to peck her, and was turning to leave 
the room. 

“Didn’t I tell you, Mary, you are not to 
turn your back to me ? ” 

Mary jerked round instantly, and began, 
with difficulty, waddling backwards towards 
the door, her eyes fixed with an agonised 
childlike expression upon her tormentor, her 
two large red thumbs turning outwards, horn- 
like, from the sides of her extended apron, 
which she held in the attitude of one taking 
an old-fashioned dancing lesson. 

“ Stop ! Throw a log on the fire first.” 


292 


The American Duchess 


All Mary’s efforts were to do over again ; 
she felt as if she must cry out right under the 
hard stare of Bessie’s great green-grey eyes, 
fixed mercilessly upon her as she again began 
the process of backing out of her presence. 

“Now, I’m going to have my dues,” ex- 
claimed Bessie, arranging the writing-paper 
beside her, and munching loudly a bit of poor 
Mary’s crisp toast with her strong white teeth. 
“ Kitty shall see if she can euchre me out of 
a ducal coronet,” she said aloud to her 
self. 

Will Bell journeyed onwards, drinking to 
excess and swearing vengeance against Bessie, 
who by her fickleness had ruined his life. He 
kept himself in a state of semi-drunkenness, 
but his mind was not so obscured that he 
could not- recall the bright hopes with which, 
on his up journey into the mountains, he had 
stopped at the towns along the way, calling 
upon those he met, or knew in each, to drink 
luck and Bessie’s health. He said he was 
going home to be married, and bring back 
his bride after a three years’ absence. Now 
it angered him to be asked what ailed him, 
and where was his promised wife. However, 


Murder 


293 


his aspect became so dangerous, as he drank 
deeper and travelled farther, that at last 
none but a fool would have ventured to mix 
himself up in his concerns at all. 

Going into the post-office in a town on 
the borders of two States one morning, he 
demanded if there were any letters or tele- 
grams for him. 

“Here’s a telegram’s been waiting several 
days,” replied the keeper of the office, hand- 
ing him the coloured envelope. 

Bell, with trembling fingers, tore it open. 
At first his soddened brain could not take in 
its sense, the paper cracked as he tried to 
hold it straight before his eyes. 

“ me, if I can read it ! ” he cursed, trying 

to steady himself on his legs, and going to 
the dusty little window of the office to get 
more light upon the paper. 

“Bessie’s given out she’s been engaged to 
the duke all along. Didn’t dare speak when 
you were here.” 

Bell frowned savagely. He was sober now. 
Crashing his fist on to the window-sill, he 
shouted, — 


294 x4merican Duchess 

“ Engaged to the duke is she . . . ? ” She’ll 
never marry him, though ! ” and with a string, 
of curses he left the post-office, crossed the 
street, and flung into the dep6t. 

Amongst other things, Tom Barmore found 
himself called upon to endure was to foot 
the bills for dresses, linen, shoes, hats — every- 
thing, in fact, which Bessie thought proper 
to order for her trousseau. Never rich at the 
best of times, Tom grumbled roundly at 
having to make so much expenditure, even if 
it were for the glory of a ducal wedding. 
Mrs Kitty, more than ever like a frightened 
mouse as she scuttled to and fro trying to 
make the house run on Bessie’s new notions 
of what was fitting under the circumstances, 
drew her old checked shawl about her, and 
stared at her old man in desperation very 
often about this time. The children had 
gotten quite beyond her, and naturally, also, 
good easy-going Mary could do nothing with 
them. Tom Barmore drank more than usual, 
sitting continually in the wood-house, and as 
he also smoked incessantly, poor Mrs Kitty 
lived in hourly terror of having the old home- 
stead burnt about her ears, lie was sitting 


Murder 295 

thus, as usual, one afternoon, when Mary, 
treading timidly, appeared. 

“Her Highness . . she began, and then 
stopped dead, alarmed at the lurid light in 
old Tom’s eye. He took the pipe out of his 
mouth and waited, dangerously calm. Mary’s 
red face flushed purple in the recesses of her 
great hat, as she mustered up courage to go 
on again, “she says you’re to hitch up and 
be . . 

“ ! ” roared Tom, “ you get back 

and tell her to hitch up herself, and go to 

. I’m mighty darned sure I’m not going 

on any more of them fool expeditions, where 
she does all the buyin’ and I do all the 

payin’. No, , I won’t ! ” he added 

sturdily, putting back his pipe in his mouth 
and gazing meditatively at the whisky keg 
by his side. 

When Mary had stated her case to Bessie, 
the latter ordered her to tell Jake to bring 
round the buggy, and said she would drive her- 
self down to the dressmaker’s beyond the town. 

Half-an-hour later, old Tom heard the 
departure, and, from his seat of vantage, 
could see Bessie driving the ancient white 
borse down tbe ^ard, 


296 


The American Duchess 


“She’ll break her neck if she goes that 
pace,” he grumbled. “I’ll have Jake drive 
her after this.” 

Here he took another pull at the whisky, 
and, settling himself well back on his seat, 
crossed his arms and began to smoke 
steadily. Five minutes later, he was sur- 
prised to see old Jake leading the white 
horse towards him, the buggy being empty. 

“ Where’s Miss Bessie ? ” cried Tom, rising 
to his feet, and making his unsteady exit 
from the wood-house. 

“ She’s done gone on ter de town a foot, 
fo’ ders somethin’ the matter ter de mare’s 
hind limb. . . 

“ She’d break the hind limb of a camel,” 
roared Tom, furious at hearing what had 
happcnel. “ Unhitch the buggy right here, 
Jake, and let me see what’s the matter with 
the beast.” 

Bessie’s spirits rose as she walked on down 
the mountain, in the still winter air. The 
day was cloudless, and the sun’s rays gleamed 
upon the dry snow, crunching with its musical 
sound beneath her feet. The few evergreens 
stood out black against the universal white* 


Murder 


297 


ness, and the tall skeletons of tlie leafless trees 
were covered in a delicate frosting which out- 
lined every little twig and spray, making a 
fairy scene ; here and there down the moun- 
tain sides she passed a frozen waterhill, turned 
to ice as it fell. Walking briskly, Bessie soon 
entered the little town. 

“ There comes my lady duchess ! ” thought 
the red-headed one, looking at her passing 
from the high stool on which he sat sorting 
the newly-arrived letters. Bessie walked on 
a few steps, then, turning, came into the office 
and asked for her mail. 

“ There’s nothing for you to-day, Bessie,” 
answered the red-headed one with an impu- 
dent leer. Bessie did not condescend to 
notice him further, and with a toss of her 
head left the office and walked on to the 
dressmaker’s. “My, you can shake your head 
all you like, your magnificent majesty,” chuckled 
the red-headed one, “ but I guess you’ll get a 
mighty big surprise before long.” 

Walking through the town, Bessie met first 
one and then another of her old associates. 
Instead of stopping and gossiping with them, 
as was her wont from childhood, she con- 


298 The American Duchess 

tented lierself with a dignified inclination of 
her head and passed on, her friends looking 
after her, some in surprise, some in mirth. 
She was not able to bow with much grace, 
as this was her first essay ; still she felt it 
incumbent on her “ Not to be seen talking to 
common people any more,” and walked on 
alone, finding it somewhat dull not to stop 
and glean all the news of everybody as usual. 
However, she reflected that her friends, the 
dressmakers, would be able to supply the de- 
ficit, and walked on, well-pleased with herself. 

She stopped at a house, standing back in its 
yard, and surrounded by tall trees. Here lived 
the family of the Southern colonel, ruined by 
the war, and glad to do any kind of sewing to 
bring a few extra dollars to the meagre family 
purse, and who had helped Aunt Nan with 
Kitty’s famous ball dress. Bessie entered the 
little white wooden gate and walked with slow 
diguity up the yard. The Maclaren girls had 
learnt now not to rush out of the front door, 
tumble down the porch steps, and throw' them- 
selves upon Bessie’s neck with many warm 
girlish kisses and hearty salutations as had 
always been their w'ont ; on the contrary, 
Bessie had soon taught theni that, with some 


Murder 


299 


people, elevation of position meant tlie discard- 
ing of all less distinguished friends, and that 
the faithful attachment of a lifetime must go 
to the wall, should the person professing it be 
poor. 

Bessie stayed long at the dressmaker’s, and it 
was getting dusk when she came quickly down 
the yard and passed out into the road ; it would 
be quite dark before she reached home, and 
there was no moon. She walked fast into the 
town, which was not very distant from the 
Maclarens, and on through it, up the principal 
street. She wished that she had the buggy, 
and regretted her reckless driving, which had 
lamed the old white horse. She hastened her 
steps as she got beyond the town, as she felt a 
little afraid of the Italians who were working 
on the great new hotel up on the hill. She left 
the last gas-lamp behind her, and passed out 
into the country. She had walked on a few paces 
when the tall figure of a powerful man, who had 
been leaning behind a tree whence he could by 
the light of the lamp opposite, observe anyone 
coming from the town, left his hiding-place, and 
began stealthily following her in the distance, 
skirting behind the shrubs which grew at the 


300 The American Duchess 

side of t!ic mountain road. Bessie could not 
see him as it had grown quite dark, and the last 
lamp had been passed. The road became very 
lonely hereabouts, as there would be no more 
houses until her own home was reached. The 
girl began to regret her false pride, which had 
prevented her from speaking to her old friends, 
otherwise she would have surely had an escort 
home. Had she accepted the cordial invitation 
to stay to supper of the Maclarens, she would, 
later in the evening, have had as many escorts 
as she could desire, the whole family of young 
people and their friends would have joyfully 
turned out in true Southern fashion, and, sing- 
ing and laughing, have accompanied her through 
the dark woods to her home, and have there 
finished the evening with a dance. 

Bessie walked on up the mountain, dogged in 
every step by the man behind her. At length 
she came to a place where an unfrequented track 
joined the main road. While they were nearing 
this, the man, instead of following her, had 
stolen quickly ahead, and just as the girl 
reached the spot, she felt herself seized from 
behind, and, notwithstanding her strong resist- 
ance and her cries, dragged forcibly away from 
the road, and down into a sort of wdd ravine. 


Murder 


301 


Slie heard the excited panting of the man’s 
breath, and grew cold with terror. He never 
spoke a word. Her flesh ached from his iron 
grip, and she felt her senses leaving her. No 
help — the lonely woods resounded with her 
screams, the wild creatures rushed scared to 
their lairs, and the sleeping birds, startled, 
aroused to listen — still no help. Then silence. 
The man had placed an overmastering hand 
upon her mouth — she was choking. 

“Now do you know' me?” hissed a voice 
close to her ear. She could feel his hot breath 
scorching on her cheek, the hand pressed heavily 
upon her face, and she thought her neck must 
break. “ I guess you know me now.” He ground 
his teeth as he said it, raising his voice from a 
whisper to a mutter. 

Her heart died within her. She was utterly 
lost ; she recognised the speech of Will Bell. 

Ten seconds passed ; his maddened, drink- 
sodden brain was trying to pierce the clouds 
of confusion in which, ever since she had seen 
him last, he had kept it steeped. Suddenly 
an access of drunken fury seized him. Spring- 
ing to his feet, he drew his revolver and begun 
firing at the body of the fallen girl where he 
could feel her, in the darkness, at his feet, 


302 The American Duchess 

% 

lying bruised, torn, liatless, almost naked. 
Her screams recommenced, the second shot 
hit her. Her brain was clear again. She 
guessed from his incoherent roars that he 
was mad drunk, and thought if she could 
only roll in the darkness under a dense 
undergrowth, which the pistol’s flash revealed, 
she might even yet escape his blind fury. 
He had fired three shots, when the fourth, 
with a sharp click, missed fire ; the sound dis- 
tracted the madman from his purpose, he 
paused and commenced stupidly fumbling 
with the trigger in the dark. Bessie bes[an 
to crawl, dragging her wounded body down 
through the yielding snow. Would he miss 
her, and begin firing again before she could 
reach the shelter ? With horror she saw that 
her woollen skirt was alight, swealing redly 
where the revolver muzzle had been held 
against it ; in a moment he would see it, 
and all would be over. Another instant and 
her pain - stiffened fingers had seized and 
dashed the fire into the snow, grinding it 
with desperation against the ground. She 
had lost several seconds. She heard him curse 
the revolver, and, the fire out, crawled on 
towards her goal. He seemed to have for- 


Murdef 


503 

gotten her ; his fury was turned upon the 
pistol and he began shaking it violently. 
Suddenly there was a flash and a loudj hoarse 
cry, Bessie, arrested in her agonised course, 
heard him fall heavily to the ground; 

For a time all was silent ; Bell was uncon- 
scious. Bessie, unable to move farther, lay 
still ; her body freezing with cold, her mind 
frozen with terror. She was no longer able 
to cry out ; a dull numbness possessed her. 
She lay straining her vision through the dark- 
ness at the black mass dimly outlined against 
the whiteness of the snow. The clouds had 
parted, revealing the stars, brilliant in the 
blue-blackness of the winter’s night; the moon 
had not yet risen, and the air was so still that 
you could imagine all Nature sleeping the death 
sleep. 

Suddenly Bell gave a deep groan. Bessie, 
startled back to consciousness, tried to raise 
herself upon her elbow, but fell helpless ; she 
had been shot through the body and was slowly 
bleeding internally. The man near her gave 
another groan. It was horrible. Was he coming- 
to, and would the frightful battle be all to do 
again ? Bessie grew fainter at the thought, and 
closed her eyes, waiting for the worst. A volley 


3O4 The American Duchess 

of curses, emitted in a changeti, strangling voice, 
as Bell shifted his position, and tried to hold up 
his head. lie had had a bullet pass up througli 
his throat and enter the side of his skull, blow- 
ing away a part of it and losing him much 
blood, which had relieved the pressure on his 
brain and made him sober. A horrible sense 
of exhaustion overpowered him. Eaising his 
hand to his wounded throat, he strove to 
hold it together, at the same time trying to 
rise and go for aid. Bessie shuddered as she 
watched him totter to his feet, make a few 
unsteady paces, and then, faint almost to 
death, fall helpless across her own body. 

Crushed by the weight of his powerful form, 
she lay pinned to the earth. The strain was 
intolerable. Must she die like this, unable to 
summon aid ? With one last desperate effort 
she raised her voice, crying, “Father.” The 
still woods gave back the echo “Father,” and 
again the distant hills repeated “ Father,” but 
no help came. Bessie, loathing the horrible 
burden of the dying man, half-raised herself, 
and strove to push him from her. Useless— 
the effort cost her her last remaining strength 
— she fell back, dying. 


MufdeV 


305 


A man, mounted on an old black mule, made 
his way through the yard of Tom Barmore’s 
house, came up to the porch, and, tying his 
beast to a tree near by, shouted to old Jake 
at the kitchen entrance to have an eye to the 
beast ; then, entering the house, familiar to him 
as his own from childhood, he made his way 
into the warm parlour. 

“Where’s Bessie?” he asked. “Sister Lu 
sent her this note to ask her about how to fix 
some of her falderalls.” 

“ But Bessie’s stayed supper at your house, 
Ben. What do you mean ? ” said Mrs Kitty. 

“ She’s never stayed down to our house,” 
answered Ben, briskly. “Why, I saw her my- 
self go down our yard at half-past four.” 

Here old Tom Barmore shifted his feet be- 
fore the fire, and, taking his pipe out of his 
mouth, growled out, — 

“ Likely she’s stopped down to the town to 
spend the evening with some of the young ’uns. 
’Taiii’t late yet, and I’ll bet we’ll hear a whole 
harvestin’ of them come up the yard soon.” 

Putting the pipe back between his lips, he 
puffed several heavy whiffs, making up for lost 
time, and threw another log on the fire. 
“Won’t you just stay, Ben, and smoke a 

y 


3o6 The American Duchess 

while till she comes in ? ” invited Mrs Kitty, 
quietly. 

“ With all the pleasure in life,” Ben answered, 
and proceeded to settle himself down beside old 
Tom. 

“ How does your roof stand the snow this 
winter ? Leak any ? ” 

Old Tom turned sociably towards the younger 
man, and soon they were deep in discussing the 
results of the presidential election, having ex- 
hausted the question of house-building. After 
a time, Mrs Kitty, drawing her shawl about her, 
and holding in her hand the stocking she was 
knitting, called her young ones about her, and 
went to see them to bed. Ten o’clock passed, 
and it was nearing eleven. Mrs Kitty re- 
entered the room and took her seat on a low 
stool beside her husband. 

“ Bessie’s staying pretty late,” he remarked, 
looking up at the clock, ticking hoarsely above 
the mantel. 

“ I guess she’s down to Hymes ! ” suggested 
Mrs Kitty. 

“ I don’t believe that’s so,” said Ben, oracu- 
larly, “ for their girls are over to our house to- 
night.” 

Silence fell for some time, Kitty knitting 


Mtirder 307 

busily, and tlie two men smoking and sipping 
tlieir whisky. 

“I must say Bessie’s stayin’ late,” grumbkd 
old Tom, stifling a yawn to keep his pipe 
between his teeth. “You better get to bed, 
Kitty, and I’ll wait up for her.” 

“ I guess I must be getting,” said Ben, rising, 
“ or our house ’ll be closed, too.” He had gotten 
to his feet, and was looking around for his hat 
and coat, when he turned to the others, and 
said, “ Say, did you know Will Bell’s back ? 
He came into town this morning by the ex- 
press. . . .” He stopped short, looking hard at 
Bessie’s father and mother. 

“ Darn my skin ! ” exclaimed the old man, 
glancing fearfully at Mrs Kitty’s whitening 
face, “ are you — sure of that, Ben ? ” 

“Why, course I am,” responded Ben, de- 
cidedly. “ I saw him fighting, drunk, outside 
the post-office about three o’clock.” Here he 
started forward to aid Mrs Kitty who was 
almost fainting. 

“Tom! Tom!” she gasped, “go quickly 
he’s done it. Oh, go quickly ! ” she screamed, 
seeing Tom’s look of being utterly nonplussed. 
“Ben!” she cried, turning to the other, “Will 
Bell threatened to murder Bessie. For God’s 


3o8 The American Duchess 

sake, fly back to the town and raise the 
alarm. He’s done it ! he’s done it ! It’s past 
midnight, and the child not home ! Oh, run, 
run, in the name of God ! in the name of 
God ! ” wailed the poor mother, wringing her 
thin hands in agonised pleading. 

Ben had seized hat and coat, rushed from 
the house, and was shouting to Jake for his 
mule; Mrs Kitty had followed him, her shawl 
forgotten, out into the yard, where she stood, 
bareheaded, beneath the stars. Tom Barmore, 
whose several whiskies had made him unable 
at first to grasp the thought which like 
lightning had flashed upon his wife, now came 
running from the house with Mrs Kitty’s 
shawl and his own big coat. 

“ Come in out of there, Kitty, my dear,” he 
called, coming up to the part}^ in the yard. 
“ Jake,” he shouted, “ saddle the mules, both 
on ’em, and be ready quick to come down ter 
th’ town. Now you,” he said, wrapping first 
her shawl, and then his big coat round the 
frail form of Mrs Kitty, “you just come right 
in. I want to see you comfortalde by the fire 
first, and then I’ll go on after Ben ter th’ 
town.’ 

Poor, fragile Mrs Kitty let him take her where 


Mtirder 


309 


he would, and catching her up in his strong 
arms, lie got her quickly back into the house, 
where he called white Mary from her bed to 
come and tend her. 

Five minutes afterwards he and Jake were 
galloping after Ben Maclaren. 

It was past three o’clock ; the moon had 
risen two hours before and flooded the snow- 
covered country with light. Until now, the 
search had been futile. They had discovered 
from the red-headed one that Will Bell had 
left the post-oflice about half-past three and 
had not returned. No one had seen Bessie 
except a coloured man, soon after she left 
the Maclaren’s on the other side of the 
town. This led to much time being lost 
following up the tracks in the snow in that 
direction. 

“ Has anyone searched the old track to the 
stone pits? ” shouted Ben, who had constituted 
himself one of the leaders. 

No one had, and the search commenced in 
that direction. Poor, old, affectionate Tom 
Barmore, heartbroken with grief, kept close 
to Ben ; he felt almost useless by himself. 

The party neared the place where the road 


310 


The American Duchess 


joined the stone pit track. Suddenly some- 
one gave a shout. 

“ What is it, Ben ? ” pitifully pleaded poor 
old Tom, clutching at the other’s arm. 

“ Is it . . . have they . . . ? My God ! Ben, 
they’ve found her ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


“I AM free!” 

“And what is friendship but a name, 

A charm that lulls to sleep ; 

A shade that follows wealth or fame, 

And leaves the wretch to weep ? ” 

Oliver Goldsmith. 

Uncle Tom and Kitty were just conameneing 
breakfast when Malcolm’s card, with “May I 
join you ? ” scribbled on it, in pencil, was 
brought in. A few moments later he entered 
the room. Instead of his usual gay-hearted 
smile his face wore a grave and pained expres- 
sion. Kitty’s sympathy, always quick to divine 
distress in others, at once felt the change in him. 

“ What is the matter ? ” she asked anxiously. 

For answer. Lord Inverness sunk into an 
easy-chair which stood near Kitty’s side, and 
covered his face with his hands. Uncle Tom 
rose quickly from the table, and passing the 
sideboard, stopped to pour out a glass of 
sherry, and brought it to the stricken man, 

311 


312 


The American Duchess 


“ Ilo'd on, old man; what’s up now?” said 
Tom, aficctionately, coming to Malcolm’s side. 
“Drink this,” he continued, urging the wine 
upon his friend. 

“Malcolm,” whispered Kitty, gently laying 
a timid hand upon his shoulders. She, too, 
had arisen, and stood, looking down upon 
him, with tear-filled, pitying eyes. 

For answer, Malcolm, without uncovering 
his face, extended his other hand, and opening 
it, showed a crumpled cablegram in its palm. 
Uncle Tom took it and read: — 

“ The Duke of Airlie’s yacht sunk in a 
squall, and all on board lost. Come home at 
once. Campbell.” 

“ Forgive me, Kitty,” said Malcolm, in a 
broken voice, as he rose and tried to control 
himself, “ I ought to apologise for intruding 
my troubles upon my friends, but it seemed 
so natural to come to you and Tom at once,” the 
poor boy went on as he turned away to wipe his 
eyes upon the little lace-frilled handkerchief, 
which Kitty, with infinite tact, unobserved by 
himself, had slipiied into his hand. Then he 
took a turn up and down the long room, and 


‘‘ / am Free ! 


becoming calmer, came again to the other two 
• — he had unconsciously slipped the little hand- 
kerchief into his pocket. 

‘‘ Will you see if there's a boat for me to-day, 
Tom ? " he asked, then, turning, he took Kitty's 
hand in both of his, and looked hungrily 
into her sweet, upturned face. The thought 
had come to him that he was about to leave 
her here alone, unprotected from the man who 
had once been nearer to him than a brother, 
and whom he now considered as something 
very like a scoundrel. Looking into her sweet, 
blue eyes, he wondered whether he had better 
warn her of the contents of Bessie's letter ; 
fear of paining Kitty had kept him undecided 
as to what to do. He had hoped to influence 
De Montfort to leave her in peace, whilst 
there was yet time, and now, all his arguments 
with the latter having failed, he felt it im- 
possible thus to go away, and leave Kitty’s 
destiny to a most cruel chance. 

‘‘ Kitty — ” he began, and was about to ask 
her to grant him a moment’s interview alone, 
when the door opened and a footman brought 
in a telegram and presented it to Tom. 

‘‘Oh, what is it, Uncle Tom cried Kitty, 
running up to him, fearful of bad news of her 


The American Duchess 


314 

father. “ Open it quick ! Here, let me ! ” she 
cried impulsively, seizing the envelope out of 
Toni’s clumsy fingers, and tearing it almost 
in halves in her anxiety to see its contents. 
“What! Oh! Oh!” 

Malcolm rushed forward and caught her just 
as she seemed about to fall. 

The telegram read thus : — 

“Bessie dead. Come home. Brother George 
sick. Sister Nan.” 

The blood surged and heat like hammers in 
Malcolm’s temples as he felt Kitty’s slender 
body reel against his side, for a moment passion 
blinded him, then, upbraiding himself for his 
selfishness, he tried to think only of her grief. 
He had led the half-fainting girl to a sofa, and 
he and Tom were doing their best to comfort 
her, when suddenly the thought flashed by him, 
piercing his heart like a dagger — Bessie dead ! 
No further obstacle remained to the duke’s 
project of winning and marrying this girl, whom 
he himself adored, and whom, to-morrow, he 
must leave for many weeks, if not for months. 


I shall certainly let the duke know you U'l'e 
goin^, Kitt^— 


“ / am Free !” 315 

“ Oh please, ma’am, don’t 1 ” cried the girl, 
anxiously. 

“ And why, pray ? ” inquired Mrs Van Eyck, 
coldly. “ Bring me my writing materials,” said 
she, turning to her maid. 

Ten minutes later De Montfort received her 
note. He had just breakfasted, and was stand- 
ing in the hotel corridor, debating whether or no 
it was too early to call upon Kitty. He had 
eaten his breakfast in gloomy self-absorption, 
thinking only of Kitty, and cursing her 
obstinate resistance of his will. Now, taking 
up his letters and morning papers unopened, he 
had just lighted a cigar, and was going towards 
the smoking-room when Mrs Van Eyck’s note 
was handed to him. Before he had time to 
open it, a Union Club man stepped up to him 
with an open Herald in his hand. 

“Have you seen that shocking news about 
the Duke of Airlie’s yacht ? Very sad for Ijord 
Malcolm Inverness. Should his eldest brother 
have been on board, it will make him next heir 
to the dukedom.” 

De Montfort was shocked. He had never liked 
the old Duke of Airlie, but Malcolm’s brother, 
the Marquis of Skye, had been his bosom friend. 
By some inadvertence, the nanies of those 


The American Duchess 


316 

drowned were not published until a later cable 
informed the public that both Malcolm’s father 
and brother and a young sister had perished. 

“ He’s almost as great a catch now as 
Chandos himself,” thought old Mrs Van Eyck, 
passing the fine French cambric of her hand- 
kerchief over her glasses, in order to enable 
herself to read more easily, as she greedily 
devoured the details. 

Ten milmtes after receiving Mrs Van Eyck’s 
note De Montfort was hurrying to respond to it 
in person. His one thought was, — 

” I am free ! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


DEATH 

“ Oh, to call back the days that are not ! 

Dinah Maria Mu lock Craik. 

“ Mrs Van Eyck, you must excuse me for com- 
ing to the house at once. When I got your 
note saying Mr Barmore and his niece were 
starting in a few hours for the South, I realised 
that you would easily understand and excuse 
me for hastening here at once, even though 
it might be appearing to intrude upon a house 
of mourning. 

“ He’s secure ! ” thought Kitty’s grandmother, 
casting her eyes downwards for fear he might 
read the light of triumph shining there. 

“ I do not think I. need explain to you, Mrs 
Van Eyck. . . The duke went on, a little 
awkwardly, “ I have come here to formally 
propose for the hand of your grand-daughter.” 

“Ob, grandmother, I cannot go down, and I 
317 


The American Duchess 


318 

don’t want to see him. ... I cannot,” she 
added resolutely. 

Mrs Van Eyck had sent the maids away, and 
the packing, to Kitty’s great dismay, was at a 
standstill. 

“ Do you mean to dare to tell me you will 
refuse the duke ! ” Mrs Van Eyck said, her face 
white with anger. 

“I do not love him,” said Kitty, simply. 

“ Do not love him ! ” exclaimed the grand- 
mother, contemptuously. “ Pray what has that 
to do with it ! ” 

Kitty’s eyes flashed dangerously. Seeing 
that she had blundered, Mrs Van Eyck went 
on, with pretended calm, — 

“You are too young, Kitty, to understand 
these things. He loves you devotedly, and will 
soon teach you to do the same.” 

Kitty shuddered. She remembered how this 
man had had power before to persuade her to 
believe that she loved him, and only by a 
chance had she become in the least aware 
that their characters and temperaments were 
unsuited to each other ; thus she felt instinc- 
tively, without being able to analyse it, and 
the result of her knowledge took the form of 
dread. She feared that this man who had 


Death 


319 


before bad the power to cast such a glamour 
over her might do so again, were she to per- 
mit him the opportunity of seeing her and 
pleading with her. 

“ I cannot, grandmother, I cannot.” 

Her voice trembled ; she felt weak and sick 
with anxiety regarding her father’s state, and 
ready to cry with worry and weariness. 

“ Kitty, you shall see him, even if I have to 
bring him in here.” 

The old lady looked about the pretty boudoir 
with an air of determination which, from ex- 
perience, Kitty knew there was no resisting. 
Though still ill, the old woman had risen and 
made a perfect toilet in anticipation of the 
duke’s coming, telling herself that some slight 
further effort was necessary if she did not wish 
“ that child ” as she always called Kitty in her 
own mind, to ruin all her well-laid plans by, 
at the very last moment, refusing the duke. 
She had seen, with great alarm, that the duke’s 
influence had lessened lately with the girl, and, 
with just intuition, she divined that Kitty, in 
her present state of mind, might very likely 
run counter to all her hopes. She knew well 
that all lier careful teachings and attempts at 
instilling worldly wisdom into the child’s mind 


320 The A merican Duchess 

had absolutely failed of their object, and Kitty 
would return to her Southern home with her 
mind as fresh and unsullied with worldliness 
as when she had left it, so few months 
before. 

“Grandmamma!” Kitty desperately faced 
the old lady, who quailed a little, “I tell 
you I do not wish to see him, and I will 
not marry him ! ” she cried, with emphasis, 
“ Please allow the maids to return and finish 
packing, or I shall miss my train.” Here a 
sudden light illumined her lovely face, and the 
brows lost some of their tension. “We can 
let the baggage come after us ! ” she cried.. 

“Yes, certainly,” assented Mrs Van Eyck, 
“and meanwhile, you will not anger me, my 
darling, by disobeying me on the last day of 
your stay with me, dear.” Here she put her 
arms about Kitty and kissed her tenderly. 
“ I shall have the maids called, and Parker 
can help them, so that there will be no need 
to fear that you will miss the train. Kitty 
dear,” she went on caressingly, “ I am an 
old woman, and you will not disappoint me 
by refusing my last request . . . ? for you 
may never see me again ...” she went on 
pathetically. She had found by experience 


Death 


321 

that Kitty might be led where she never 
would permit herself to be driven. 

‘‘Oh, grandmamma! do please not make 
me see him.” 

Mrs Van Eyck's heart gave a bound ; she 
discerned the commencement of Kitty’s capitu- 
lation. 

“ Only for a moment, darling,” she answered, 
with assumed indifference. “ It would seem 
very unkind not even to bid him adieu, when 
he has always been so very thoughtful and 
kind to you.” 

Her penetration told her that to awaken 
Kitty’s remembrance and gratitude would be 
the first step gained towards making her give 
the duke a favourable hearing. 

“Come along, my pet.” 

Slipping her arm through that of Kitty 
she led her from the room and towards her 
own boudoir, where she had left the duke. 
He, meanwhile, was consumed with impatience, 
and after his usual wont, strode to and fro 
the length of the pleasant room. He longed 
to throw the big bay-window wide open and 
admit the keen wind from without ; the heavy 
flower odours stifled him, the blaze of the 
Liverpool coal combined with the steam-heat, 


X 


3^2 The American Dnchess 

made the atmosphere of the whole house, and 
of that room in particular, unbearable to the 
Englishman. His anxiety at the length of 
time Mrs Van Eyck had been absent increased 
as the clock’s hands moved silently forward ; 
he knew he possessed a clever and determined 
advocate in Kitty’s grandmother, but he began 
to fear the obstinacy of Kitty’s self Suddenly 
he recalled Bessie’s hints and innuendoes as to 
Kitty’s engagement, and the thought came to 
him to go and seek Uncle Tom, and demand 
of him what was the truth' at last. As he 
flung open the door and dashed impetuously 
down the staircase, he swore to himself that, 
free or not free, he would make Kitty his 
wife. It was useless for her to struggle against 
him ; he would win her ; and a muttered curse 
passed his lips as he remembered the firmness 
of her character. The duke found Uncle Tom 
in the library, and staggered his slow mind 
with the directness with whick he put the 
question, — 

“Tell me, Barmore, is your niece, Kitty 
Fauntleroy, engaged to be married or not?” 

While Mrs Van Eyck was pleading with her 
grandchild. Lord Malcolm Inverness returned 


Death 


32 


to tlie house with Tom Barmore. They had 
been to secure a steamer ticket, and to send 
cables to Europe. Poor Malcolm found he 
would have to wait until the afternoon of 
the morrow before he could start, and was 
broken-hearted at further cables he had 
received giving him particulars of his father’s, 
brother’s, and little favourite sister’s deaths. 
On re-entering, he had left Tom writing letters 
in the library, ami gone into a quiet little 
reading-room beyond, which usually remained 
untenaiited. The doors stood always open 
between the rooms, and a screen prevented 
the interior of the smaller one from being 
visible from the library. On encering it, Lord 
Malcolm threw himself into a wide, low arm- 
chair beside the fire, and sat staring vacantl}’’ 
into the latter’s fiaming depths. He felt 
overwhelmed ; everything was wrong. In the 
midst of all his natural grief for his family 
came the misery of his hopeless love, and his 
dread of He Montfort’s influence over Kitty. 
Now he heard the question put by the duke 
to Uncle Tom, and startled, held his breath, 
listening for the response. Several moments 
elapsed, which seemed hours to Lord Malcolm, 
before Uncle Tom answered, slowly, — 


324 


The Afiierican Duchess 


“ Little Kitty ? Wli}^ she’s only a child ! 
What would she be thinking of marrying for ? ” 

The duke, irritated by this ambiguous 
response, swore outright. 

“ it, man ! can’t you give me a direct 

answer? Hasn’t Kitty been engaged for a 
long time to some fellow whom her father 
won’t let her marr3^” 

“Who in told you that?” cried Uncle 

Tom, now thoroughly roused. 

The duke reddened ; he remembered Bessie, 
and answered evasively, — 

“ I was informed so.” 

“ But who informed you ? ” persisted Uncle 
Tom, doggedly. 

“That’s neither here nor there,” responded 
the duke, brusquely. “ Tell me whether it is 
true or ever has been true ?” 

“ Never ! ” said Tom, solemnly, surprised at 
the other’s warmth. Then he went on, “ Our 
Kit, I guess, has never thought of anyone but 
her hither. Anyway, she never had a beau, 
and the young fellows around those parts 
’peared to look upon her as nothing else nor 
a child.” 

The duke gave a great gasp of relief which 
was echoed quietly by Lord Malcolm’s heart. 


Death 


325 

“ I will speak to her to-day,” the former 
thought. 


“I wonder where the duke can be?” 

Mrs Van Eyck’s face fell as upon enter- 
ing her boudoir with Kitty she found it empty. 
She shivered a little, partly from fear and 
partly because she had found the boudoir 
door thrown wdde open as it had been left by 
the duke when he made liis impulsive exit, 
although the air in the corridor w^as ecpially 
well heated. Kitty, greatly relieved, -was 
about to beg her grandmother’s permission to 
return to her own rooms, when the duke 
appeared. 

“Pardon me, Mrs Van Eyck,” he said, 
bowing, “ but T had ^ome business with Mr 
Barmore.” 

He glanced at Kitty, and she trembled as she 
saw the look of triumph in his eyes. She 
longed to escape, for, as they all stood there 
together, she felt his old-time influence stealing 
over her. It seemed so natural for them all to 
be in that room together, and habit is a great 
controller. Looking towards him as he stood 
with the becoming light of the boudoir falling 
upon him from the big bay-window, Mrs Van 


326 The American Duchess 

Eyck’s eyes beamed witli pleasure* for, as she 
justly thought, the duke had never looked 
handsomer. Kitty saw it, too, sensitive as she 
always had been to the influence of things 
beautiful. Excitement had brought a rich glow 
to the generally pale olive of the duke’s face, 
and illumined his eyes with a strange light of 
which, before now, Kitty had. felt the mesmeric 
power. His rich wavy hair had become slightly 
disordered. The Duke had a trick of laying his 
hand upon it when thinking earnestly, which 
had brought some of its dark rings about his 
forehead, and made it all the more becoming. 

“ I must go and see Parker about the pack- 
ing,” said Mrs Van Eyck, vanishing beyond 
the silken portiere, and leaving the other two 
alone. Weakened by the shock she had sus- 
tained that morning, Kitty felt her body sway 
as she realised that the ordeal was beginning. 
The duke, regarding her with eyes in which 
passion and triumph contended for the rnastery, 
stepped to her side. She felt him take her 
hand in his, and trembled at its burning 
contact. 

“ Kitty, you are tired, dear,” he whispered 
tenderly, his lips almost touching her hair as 
be bent over hep “Yog. have had too much 


Death 


327 


to bear this morning, poor darling.” He bad 
assumed an air of protection and possession 
over her ; his experience taught him that 
woman’s dependent nature was more easily 
influenced wlien thus controlled by sympathy. 
“ Come and rest.” 

He left her side for a moment to place a com- 
fortable lounging chair nearer the fire. She 
stood still, watching him, feeling a sense of 
comfort steal over her, as she saw him making 
these arrangments for her ease ; she had been 
so worried and distressed all the morning, and 
had found no consolation in her grandmother’s 
formal words of S3'mpathy, interrupted as they 
had been by many lamentations over the un- 
fortunate necessity that had arisen for letting 
her go back to her father. The old lady had 
even hinted that she considered Mr Fauntleroy 
was exaggerating the importance of the reasons 
for recalling Kitty, and this had put the girl 
in a passion, at the cold-heartedness of her 
grandmother, who could for a moment suppose 
that Mr Fauntleroy would be willing to do 
without his daughter at this juncture or she 
herself willing to remain away. Kow, the 
duke’s tender care of her, and sympathy for 
her, came in agreeable contrast; with the old 


328 The American Duchess 

lady’s exasperating lamentations. Kitty was 
soothed, and allowed herself to be led to the 
chair by the fire and placed comfortably in it. 
Her feet were cold from nervous tension and 
suffering, and instinctively she stretched them 
towards the blaze of the newly-stiried fire. 

“Let me Avarm your hands, too,” the duke 
sai<l, sinking on a low stool beside her, and 
gathering them both in his, he began to chafe 
them gently. Several moments passed in 
silence. Kitty had forgotten her late dislike 
and fear of him, and felt as if they were back 
in the old days again, after her illness, when 
he had constituted himself good Nan’s aide in 
nursing her and caring for her. She closed 
her eyes dreamily. Presently he dropped ber 
hands, and she felt his burning lips upon her 
closed eyelids. He was kneeling beside her 
now. Taking her golden head in both his hands, 
he turned her unresisting mouth upwards, and 
crushed kisses upon the sweet lips. “Kitty, 
darling,” he whispered hoarsely “my little 
wife ! I may call you that, now ? I beg your 
pardon for my words of the other day. I was 
mad. I see it now. Forgive me, adored, forgive 
me ! ” He saw' that she w'as trembling. “ I 
know I was wrong,” he urgod. “ Forgive me, 


Death 


32D 

Kitty. Would you drive me to despair ? I cannot 
live without you,” he cried, with emphasis. “ If 
you send me from you again, you send me to 
. . . destruction,” he added, stifling a stronger 
word in his throat. 

“But ... but . . .” whispered Kitty, 
faintly. “ Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! ! Oh, dear ! ! ! ” 
came in a strong cry from her as she released 
herself and buried her face in her hands, “ I 
cannot ! I do not love you ! ” 

His brows contracted with a furious frown 
as he 'heard her, but he controlled himself 
with great effort, and said calmly, — 

“Kitty, my little wife, I know you better 
than you know yourself. Very young girls 
are always like that. ' I frightened you the 
other day by romantically wanting you to 
marry me quietly. It was because you are 
so precious to me that I selfishly wished to 
keep you all to myself. I see it now I was 
wrong, very wrong ; but you will not punish 
me for my one great sin of loving you too well. 
By driving me from you into the world, you 
will drive me straight to ruin, for I cannot 
live without you. I will not,” he added 
fiercely, gaining courage. He had again 
possessed himself of her cold, little hand. 


330 Ths American Duchess 

aud this time she did not withdraw it. 
“ You remember, darling, how happy we 
wore together when your ankle was hurt ? ” 

She remembered. It was true that then, 
had he proposed, he would have been accepted. 
She had grown so accustomed to him he had 
become almost a necessity of her daily life. 
She remembered how when he had taken his 
sudden departure she had felt as if a part 
of her existence was curtailed, and a great 
loneliness had made itself apparent to 
her. 

“ You know we got on splendidly together, 
dear,” he went on, cursing Bessie as he re- 
membered her part in their separation. “ We 
shall always get on like that, and — w'e will 
live with your father,” he hastened to add, 
divining the thought to which she was about 
to give expression. 

“ Will you really ? ” she demanded, very 
earnestly, bending her blue eyes upon him for 
the first time. 

He grasped both her hands in his, the pas- 
sionate light in his eyes burning into her own 
upturned ones. 

I swear it, Kitty, I swear it ! Nothing 
shall ever make me do what displeases you ; 


Death 


331 

and I know it would make you unhappy to 
leave your father.” 

“ It would ! it would ! ” she cried passion- 
ately. She was confused and distressed ; his 
words about driving him to ruin shocked her 
inexperience. She believed him implicitly, and 
how could she render herself responsible for 
his destruction ? The poor child bent her face 
upon her hands, and wept bitterly. 

“Kitty!” cried the duke, ''Kitty, do you 
want to break my heart ? ” 

For answer, she rose and went and leant 
against the mantelpiece. In a moment he 
saw his advantage ; he stepped to her side 
and wound his arms about her, drawing her 
tired head against his breast. 

“You will be my wife, and save me, Kitty?” 
he whispered passionately, kissing away her 
tears. ''Say you* will, dear, or I shall go mad,” 
he added impulsively. 

She shyly raised her eyes, and shuddered as 
they encountered the hungry fury writ in his. 

“Say you will,” he urged, crushing her to 
him till he hurt her. “ Say you will ... You 
must, or I shall be damned eternally ! Say 
it!” came hissing through his closed tectb. 
“Say it!’ 


332 


The American. Diichess 


In liis fury he gave her slender body a 
brutal shake ; she, terrified, in an agony of 
dread, whispered, almost unconsciously, — 

“I will.” 

Lord Malcolm Inverness, who had halted on 
the threshold in time to . hear the last few 
words, and seen the furious embrace, let the 
silken portiere fall from his nerveless hand, 
and staggered blindly towards the stair- 
case. 

As the duke wrung Kitty’s unwilling assent 
from her, Mrs Van Eyck entered the room by 
the door communicating with her private 
library ; she judged that this was an oppor- 
tune moment for her interference. The duke, 
knowing her firm allegiance to himself promptly 
turned to her for aid. Taking Kitty’s irre- 
sponsive hand in his, he led her towards her 
grandmother. 

“ Congratulate me, dear Mrs Van Eyck. I 
believe I am one of the happiest of men, for 
Miss Fauntleroy has promised to be my wife. 
Allow me to present to you the future Duchess 
of Chandos.” 

His eyes glittered with triumph as they 
encountered those of the delighted old lady, 


Death 


333 

and Kitty, with her head bent forward upon 
her breast, stood silently between them. 

Mrs Van Eyck’s diplomacy warned her 
not longer to continue the scene. Coming to 
Kitty’s side, she wound her arm about her 
and kissed her tenderly, then offering the 

duke her hand, she said sweetly, I con- 

gratulate you both, duke. I am certain no 
two people could be better suited to one 
another.” Then she said apologetically, I 

grieve to interrupt such a happy moment, 
but I must see Kitty about the packing. 
Come with me, dear,” she said, winding her 
arm round the child’s waist, about to conduct 
her from the room. The duke gently took 
Kitty’s disengaged hand and whispered 
tenderly, — 

‘‘My blessed little Kitty, you have made 
my life, which was so desolate, a very 

heaven ! ” 

He did not dare to kiss her pale cheek, 
and contented himself with pressing her cold, 
little fingers as her grandmother led her from 
the room. 

Kitty neither regarded him nor made 
response; she walked beside Mrs Van Eyck 
as if mesmerised. She was thinking, dully, 


334 The American Duchess 

“ Malcolm would never have forced me to 
consent ! ” 

“Please, my lady, Mr Barmore seems very 
anxious to speak to you.” 

“Show him into my library, then.” 

A moment later, the footman returned to 
announce that Uncle Tom was waiting, and 
Mrs Van Eyck, with a show of great tender- 
ness, handed over Kitty, half-fainting, to the 
care of her own elderly, and very motherly 
English maid. Kitty was lying upon a sofa, 
and as the good woman knelt beside the girl 
to bathe her aching temples, she thought to 
herself and said afterwards in the house- 
keeper’s room, — 

“ Promised bride ! I never seen a happy 
bride like this. No good luck can come out 
of such beginnings, and, to my mind, we had 
better dress her for her burying than marry 
her to the duke.” 

Perhaps her thoughts and words were to 
prove prophetic. 

• *••••••• 

When Mrs Van Eyck entered the room, she 
started slightly as Uncle Tom turned his 
deep-set, haggard eyes upon her ; his face was 


Death 


3o5 


white and drawn, and in his hands he held 
a telegram and a letter in Bessie’s bold hand- 
writing, also one in that of Mr Fauntleroy’s ; 
he looked like a man who had received a great 
mental shock. 

“What is the matter, Mr Barmore?” Mrs 
Van Eyck’s experience told her that something 
very serious had occurred. 

“ My brother George is dead,” said old Tom, 
simply, endeavouring to stifle a great sob in 
his throat. 

For one instant Mrs Van Eyck remained 
shocked ; then the thought flashed by her, 
Kitty’s father dead, the girl would remain in 
her own keeping, and the marriage, which was 
in prospect, should surely take place. Com- 
posing her face to a decent appearance of 
concern, she said, — 

“ My dear Mr Barmore, how can I sufficiently 
condole with you ? ” Tom here put his great 
red bandana to his eyes and turned slightly 
towards the window ; his tender heart was 
riven at the thought of his favourite brother’s 
loss. Suddenly Mrs Van Eyck said, by way 
of rousing him and terminating what, to her, 
was simply a painful scene, such as she had 
made it a practice all her life to avoid, — 


336 The Amerkah Duchess 

“At anyrate, Mr Barmore, we must be 
extremely thankful that dear Katherine is so 
well provided for.” 

“ Yes,” responded Tom, stupidly, perceiving 
that she had paused, and that an answer of 
some kind was required of him. In his con- 
fusion of mind he began wondering w'ho was 
Katherine, forgetting that her dignified grand- 
mother never spoke of her by the familiar 
name of Kitty. 

“At least she is magnificently provided for,” 
went on the old lady. Tom was more mystified 
than ever, remembering that brother George 
never had been rich. However, her next sentence 
enlightened him. “The duke has proposed 
and been accepted, and when a proper time 
elapses Katherine will become Duchess of 
Chandos.” 

Simple old Uncle Tom gasped. Looking in 
a confused manner at the letter he held in 
his ha,nd, he said, — 

“But he was engaged all the time to poor 
Bessie, and that is why Will Bell has murdered 
her, and this has killed brother George.” 

“ Oh, Dad ! Dad ! ” 

With a fearful cry Kitty fell forward at their 
feet. 


CHAPTER XIX 


FAREWELL I 

“Ah, dear, but come thou back to me ^ 

Whatever change the years have wrought^ 

I find not yet one lonely thought 
That cries against my wish for thee.” 

Alfred Tennyson. 

Poor Lord Malcolm, who was now the Duke 
of Airlie, left for England on the next day ; 
he knew his mother and other sister must be in 
the greatest distress and in need of his care, 
else, as he told himself, nothing should have 
torn him from the city where poor little Kitty 
lay prostrated, perhaps dying, by the shock of 
her father’s death. Good old Uncle Tom 
accompanied Lord Malcolm on board the great 
Inman liner, and they were standing together 
awaiting the bell to sound all strangers to 
shore ; they both looked careworn and very 
diflerent from their usual wont. 

‘‘ Tom, old fellow,” said- Lord Malcolm, affec* 
Y 


33^ American Duchess 

tionately, “ you will write to me by every mail 
until she’s better ? ” 

For answer, good old Uncle Tom could only 
wring the other’s hand, and great tears stood 
in his eyes as he looked into those of his com- 
panion with a dog-like regard of affection. 
Presently, swallowing a great lump in his throat, 
he said huskily, — 

“ Would to God, Malcolm, that she was to 
marry you instead.” 

A spasm of pain crossed Lord Malcolm’s 
mouth. 

“ Would to God, indeed, it were so.” The 
words came hardly above his breath, and his 
kind blue eyes strained, unseeing, towards the 
other shore. 

At this moment the last bell rang, and 
there was the usual rush ashore. The friends 
gripped hands, and eloquent eyes told more 
to aching hearts than many spoken words ; 
then, silently, with lagging footsteps, poor old 
Tom left the other and went down the gang- 
way, the hoarse-throated whistle sounded, and 
the great steamer began to swing slowly out 
of her dock. 

Lord Malcolm was a good sailor, and after 
having watched poor, old, waiting Tom’s face 


Faretvell ! 


339 


disappear, indistinguishable, into the mass of 
liumanity which swarmed to the head of the 
pier to shout and wave last farewells to part- 
ing friends, he left the crowded steamer’s 
rail, and seeking a part of the long deck 
which was deserted, began to pace mechani- 
cally to and fro. His face w'as drawn and 
white, and lips tense ; his blue eyes had a 
strained, sleepless look. As he w'alked, he 
drew his handkerchief from his breast pocket, 
and was surprised to perceive a small, dainty 
mass of lace and finest cambric fall at his 
feet. He stooped and raised it. As he did so, 
a little whiff of perfume reached him ; a spasm 
of pain convulsed his fair face, and he crushed 
the handkerchief against his lips. 

“ Kitty, my little Kitty ! Merciful God ! how 
shall I ever live to see her wife to another ? ’ 

Many weeks passed slowly by, leaving sweet 
spring behind on the turning pages of the year’s 
book. Summer had come, with its burning skies 
above the sun-scorched pavements of the great 
city, its flowers at the street-corners, its 
shopping women, its deserted homes, and 
throngs of lightly-clad business men hurrying 
along the stifling, crowded streets. 


340 The American Duchess 

In Fifth Avenue one of the few houses which 
stood still in winter trim — dowers in its 
balconies, and no hoardings before its doors — 
was Mrs Van Eyck’s. Within all was gloom 
and anxiety, for Kitty, prostrated by brain 
fever, lay at the point of death. 

Mrs Van Eyck’s anxiety regarding the 
marriage had been too great to permit of her 
going as usual to her Newport residence. Kitty 
could not be moved, and the former stayed on 
through the long, hot days, near her grand- 
daughter. She had made Uncle Tom bring 
good Nan up from the South, and the affec- 
tionate creature never left her darling’s bedside 
day or night. The duke had been, of course, 
in constant attendance, and Uncle Tom, for the 
sake of the latter, had been permitted until now 
by Mrs Van Eyck to still form part of the 
household. 

Poor little Kitty lay white and still, the 
shadow of her former joyous self, amidst the 
delicate linen and soft laces of her dainty bed. 
Last night had been the turning point in her 
illness, and consciousness had returned ; her 
extreme prostration, however, left her unable 
to take any notice of what was passing around 
hel-, and only the faint movement caused by 


Farewell ! 


34T 


lier breathing enabled those about her to know 
that she lived. Every few minutes the duke, 
haggard-eyed and with quiet tread, came in 
from the boudoir and stood gazing upon her, 
as she lay with her long eyelashes sweeping her 
wasted cheeks and her masses of red-gold curls 
thi’own back above her pillows. 

“ When can we move her % ” he whispered 
anxiously to Mrs Van Eyck. 

“ In a few days,” came the answering whisper, 
and the duke went back to his post by the 
window, obliged to be content. 

“ It must be soon, my darling, because I 
have urgent affairs which call me to London.” 

She looked up at him with a pained, pleading 
expression ; the thought of being taken to 
London appalled Kitty, the more so, as her 
health not being yet re-established, her mind 
was prone to exaggerate everything, and 
rendered her timid and afraid of novelty. It 
was sunset, and Kitty was lying upon a couch 
in a shady corner of the verandah of Mrs Van 
Eyck’s Newport cottage with the duke in 
attendance upon her. He had just brought 
her a great mass of roses, and they lay upon 
her lap, their fragrance, wafted by the faint 


342 The American Duchess 

breeze, filled tlie air with sweetness. For the 
first time the duke had dared to allude to the 
subject of their marringe ; he knew' too well, 
the difficulties of his position to approach the 
theme with much confidence of gaining Kitty’s 
willing assent. At the same time, his over- 
whelming passion for her urged him to pre- 
cipitation, fearing, as he did, that some chance 
word might reveal to her the secret of Bessie’s 
death and her connection wdth himself. He 
also knew the subtle influence of sickness 
upon the will power, and determined, with 
Mrs Van Eyck’s assent, to hasten their marriage, 
before Kitty could obtain strength of mind 
and body sufficient to enable her to perceive 
the false step which she was about tc make. 

Mrs Van Eyck had impressed upon Uncle 
Tom and Nan the necessity for concealing from 
Kitty all the facts in connection with Bessie 
and the duke. Good old Nan was always 
easily led, and Kitty’s grandmother found little 
difficulty in persuading her of the necessity 
for reserve ; but with Uncle Tom it had been 
different, and Mrs Van Eyck felt continually 
in dread of his breaking sihnce. Now Kitty 
turned troubled eyes towards the duke, say- 
ing— 


Farewell ! 


343 


But can you not go first and attend to 
your affairs in Euglaiid, and when you return, 
perhaps . . . perhaps. . . 

“My darling, you cannot ask me this. Let 
us be married at once. Your grandmother 
wishes it ; your health demands change and 
travel, and I. . . ^ 

He had taken her hand, which he caressed 
in both his own, and was looking into her 
blue eyes, which met his, all too unmoved by 
passion, with a startled and troubled expres- 
sion in them. He saw the effect of his words 
upon her, and cursed himself anew that he 
had not the power to make her love him. 
Then came the thought, “But he would win 
her against all odds, and it should be her fault 
if she were not happy later on.” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE EVE OF THE WEDDING 

Our bond is not the bond of man and wife.” 

Alfred Tennyson. 

The sweet fragrance of the sleeping gardens 
filled the sultry night air with heavy odours. 
Kitty sat at her window, gazing sadly at 
the rising moon, already waned to half her 
splendour of ten days ago, when she was at 
her full. Nothing disturbed the silence save, 
now and then, the shrill whistle of a bat as 
he flew, to and fro, above the tops of the 
shrubs below, across the face of the c[ucen of 
night. 

The w’edding w^as on the morrow, and every- 
thing was in readiness. Only half-an-honr 
since good Aunt Nan had retired, after, for 
the hundreth time, making sure that all was 
right, and every detail of the bride’s toilet 
in perfect readiness. Simple old Nan was 
dazzled by the fact that her little Kitty was 

344 


The Eve of the Wedding 345 

so soon to become a ducliess, and it blinded 
her usually discerning eyes to the fact that 
the child, of all those interested, was the only 
one who seemed unhappy; Mrs Van Eyck’s 
quick perceptions enabled her to see this, as 
also did the duke, and Uncle Tom, in his 
dog - like affection, had a dumb sense that 
all was not right, although Mrs Van Eyck’s 
repeated assurances to the contrary should 
have led him to believe otherwise. 

The moon rose higher, and Kitty, her white 
face resting on her clasped hands, sat on, 
wondering what the future might hold for 
her. Her father’s death had been an irremedi- 
able blow to her ; it had left her stunned and 
careless of what became of her. Even Tom 
and Nan appeared to her to have changed ; 
they and Mrs Van Eyck were intent upon 
the preparations for the wedding they had 
no thought for her they only cared for this 
hated rank, this great wealth, and position, 
this title. Mrs Van Eyck and Nan were 
continually singing the praises of the giver- 
to-be of all these, telling her of the duke’s 
devotion, of his sufferings during her illness, 
of the bright dreams he had for their united 
future, till, at length, Kitty, her life rendered 


346 The American Duchess 

void by the death of her father, weak in mind 
and body by reason of her long illness, 
had been brought to consent to this marriage, 
feeling in a manner bound to recompense the 
duke for his love, and content to give him 
her future, thinking that with the death of 
her father all joy was at an end for her and 
it mattered little what became of herself so 
long as she made those about her content, 
and she herself could escape into a state of 
approximate peace. 

The hours of the short summer’s night 
wore on, and Kitty still sat watching and 
keeping her lonely vigil, quiet tears from 
time to time coursing down her delicate face, 
as she thought of all that had been, and now 
and then a convulsion of passionate weeping 
as she remembered her father, and recalled 
how he had speeded her upon her journey, 
his own heart breaking at this, their first 
separation, telling her it was only for a 
few short months, not knowing that it was 
to be for ever. Kitty, her heart wrung by 
these sad memories, sat on, lost in the past, 
caring nothing for the future, and conscious 
only that she suffered dumbly, as only the 
young and untried soul can suffer, ignorant 


The Eve of the Wedding 347 

that with tlie years comes- healitig, and that 
in life tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse. 

It was the ^‘darkest hour before the dawn/' 
a slight breeze had arisen, presage of the 
coming day, and Kitty was suddenly startled 
by the opening of a side door of the sleeping 
house, and the sound of a man’s footsteps as 
it crossed the broad piazza and stepped over 
the crunching gravel drive to the silence of 
the lawn beyond. He passed directly beneath 
her windows, and she could tell by his slow, 
somewhat halting step that it was Uncle 
Tom. A sudden longing seized the girl for 
sympathy, for human companionship ; a great 
loneliness came over her ; she felt as if she 
had suddenly awakened from a state of 
trance, as if she must rise and fly from 
the self of this past night, with its crowding- 
ghosts and memories. She hurriedly arose, 
and taking a light mantle of fleecy wljite- 
ness, she threw it round her, opened her door 
and hastened towards the great staircase. 

Uncle Tom’s conscience had also peopled his 
night with evil dreams and memories. His 
troubled sleep had finally been broken by an 


348 The American Duchess 

accusing vision of Malcolm, who seemed to 
stand again with him upon the steamer’s deck, 
listening with bent brows to his own story 
of the coming marriage, and how, owing to the 
sequence of events, and Mrs Van Eyck’s and 
the duke’s influence, he had been powerless 
to hinder the union of the girl Malcolm 
worshipped with the man whom they both 
had, such good reason to distrust and despise. 
For some time Tom tossed miserably in his 
bed, wishing that he had not heeded Mrs Van 
Eyck’s warnings and her specious representa- 
tions of how great was Kitty’s love for the 
duke, and the impossibility that the marriage 
could be broken off, and, above all, her injunc- 
tion to absolute silence regarding Bessie’s death, 
and her relation to Kitty’s promised husband. 

Too late Tom’s slow mind had begun to 
realise that Kitty was, owing to her weak state 
of health, both physical and mental, a consent- 
ing party to her own ruin, and that this union, 
into which she had been coerced by her grand- 
mother, could bring little else than misery in 
the future. These thoughts overwhelmed Tom ; 
the close night air seemed stifling him. He arose, 
determining to clear his brain by a walk above 
the sea, upon the cliff, till sunrise. 


The Eve of the Wedding 


349 


Mrs Van Eyck had also passed a restless night. 
Her schemes had succeeded so well thus far 
that, upon the very verge of realisation, she 
feared something unforeseen and unprovided-for 
happening, which should demolish the whole 
fabric of her dreams. By the aid of her little 
rose-shaded night-lamp she looked at her watch, 
and saw that it was the last hour before 
morning. She felt oppressed, and thought she 
would arise and open the large window and 
look out into the garden. Her maid slept in 
the next room, but she would not call her ; she 
preferred the society of her own thoughts ; so, 
slipping her feet into her pantoufles, she threw a 
wrap round her shoulders, and was about to go 
to the window, when the sound of an opening 
door arrested her steps. “ Thieves ! ” flashed 
across her mind, and she was about to summon 
her maid, then, hearing a light, fearless step 
approaching, slie changed her mind, took up 
the pink-shaded lamp, opened her door, and 
confronted the tear-stained face of Kitty. 

“ Did you say she is asleep, Bai ker ? ” 

“ Yes, my lady, I did as you commanded, and 
sat by her until the medicine you gave me had 


350 The American Duchess 

put her off. She will sleep now until it is time 
to waken her for the wedding. She said her 
uncle was out in the garden, and she wanted 
to go and walk with him and cure her head- 
ache.” The maid looked into her lady’s cold, 
haughty face and thought, “ If the bride that 
is to be had said to cure her heartache, I believe 
it wmuld have been more near the truth, poor 
child ! ” and the good creature, dismissed by her 
mistress, returned sadly to her pillow. 

“ What a fortunate chance it was that I 
should have heard her,” thought Mrs Van 
Eyck, aloud. “Had she joined Tom Barmore 
in the garden, there is no knowing what 
foolish confidences might not have been ex- 
changed, and her splendid future thrown away 
for the mere whim of a silly, ignorant child. 
I know what is for her good, and there will 
come a time when she will thank me for my 
care and foresight.” 

With which comforting self-assurance, the 
old woman sipped a little strong beef-tea, kept 
simmering the night long over a small lamp, 
and, later on, stepped into bed with the feel- 
ing of having done her duty under very 
delicate and difficult circumstances. 

Kitty’s maid, aroused by order of Mrs Van 


351 


The Eve of the Wedding 

Eyck, sat drowsily watcliing the pale, sleeping 
face of her young lady, wondering how it could 
be possible that one could weep, who, upon 
the morrow, was about to be translated into 
the fairy regions of Duchessdom. 

The last night of the Duke of Chandos’s 
bachelor life was not passed in giving a fare- 
well dinner to his friends, nor in any of the 
usual pre-nuptial rejoicings common to young 
men of the present day. 

He had passed the evening quietly with 
Kitty and Mrs Van Eyck ; the latter being 
too clever to leave them much to themselves. 

Kitty had been kind and gentle and pathetic, 
as he found her almost always now. She had 
smiled quietly up into his face as he presented 
her with his magnificent family jewels, which 
he had had reset and sent from England for 
his bride. Old Mrs Van Eyck’s eyes sparkled 
as she saw the duke place the coronet upon 
Kitty’s lovely head, and the duke himself felt 
proud as he looked at the girl, standing there 
so quietly, the great jewels flashing a thousand 
sparks above her brow, and about her throat 
and arms. Then had come the last good-night 
before their marriage day. Mrs Van Eyck had 


352 / The American Duchess 

prudently left them for a moment, and gone 
into the room beyond. The duke’s eyes 
sought those of Kitty as soon as they were 
alone, hoping to find in them some approach 
to response to the passion which burned in 
his own. It maddened him to see her stand- 
ing there so still and white. Another man 
might have trembled for their future, but he, 
blind to everything except the gratification 
of his mad desire, obstinate in his determina- 
tion to possess her, and careless of all else, 
was content to let the future take care of 
itself. He approached her, and putting his 
arms about her, crushed her to him ; his blood 
beat in his temples, filling his brain with con- 
fusion as with the sound of hammers ; she 
reeled as he held her in his strong arms, 
hurting her with the fierceness of his embrace. 
To him all was forgotten but the thought 
“ To-morrow ! ” 

Kitty’s heart beat fast, but it was with fear. 
She trembled in his mad grasp ; all the sweet- 
ness in her cried out against her inability to 
make response ; she longed to be able to love 
him in return. He was so soon to be her 
husband, and she found it terrible that he 
lacked the power to move her. She felt the 


The Eve of the iVedding 553 

fever of his lips crushing kisses upon her eyes, 
her mouth, her throat, and her own lips grew 
white and cold with terror. Other women 
could love, and why not she ? In her innocence 
she wondered whether the love of the husband 
was not always stronger than that of the wife. 
She heard his voice murmuring to her between 
his kisses, whispering of his passion for her, 
and pleading for her passionate response. A 
faintness seized her. He could feel her slender 
limbs droop through her delicate clinging white 
draperies ; had it not been that he sustained 
her, she would have fallen. 

“Forgive me, Kitty, beloved little wife! I 
have been brutal,” he said hoarsely. “I am 
mad to-night ; forgive me, dear.” 

He placed her in a great lounging chair by 
the window, where the moonlight fell upon 
her, bathing with its cold rays this colder bride. 
She lay motionless ; her beautiful hair, slipped 
from its bindings, fallen about her breast, and 
concealing its lovely outline from his hungering 
sight. Gazing upon her, he felt, for the first 
time, some faint remorse. For a moment he 
hesitated, then she wearily moved her head 
aside, the waving masses of her hair fell back 
from her shoulder discovering the exquisite 
z 


354 American Duchess 

curve of her neck and her little ear. Again 
his brain reeled ; her loveliness was all to him. 
What mattered it that the girl was cold ? Very 
young girls were so. He would trust to his own 
mad love to ' awaken hers ; after marriage he 
would know how to compel response. 

Once since her illness she had pleaded with 
him, telling him that with her father’s death 
all love seemed dead in her, and that she felt 
she could not love him with the devotion of 
a wife, and feeling thus, the idea of marriage 
appalled her. His answer had been that his 
own love was sufficient for both, and that with 
marriage he would teach her to feel all that 
she now knew she lacked ; and she, weak from 
the effects of her late illness, weary with his 
insistence and that of her grandmother, had 
succumbed to his will, letting events take their 
course, till now she stood upon the threshold 
of their bridal day, gazing with terror into 
the future as she lay there, so still, with closed 
eyes, in the moonlight. She trembled as she 
felt him kneel beside her and take her hand. 
The pale moonbeams kissed the white curve 
of her neck, and again she felt his burning 
lips upon her there. She recoiled ; he seemed 
so rough. What was she to do ? and how could 


355 


The Eve of the Wedding 

she ever many him ? She struggled to draw 
her hands away ; he was hurting her. What 
should she do ? Another moment and her 
misery would have given her courage to end 
it all and tell him she could never be his wife. ^ 
It was too horrible thus to be bound to go 
before the altar and . . . Mrs Van Eyck’s voice 
sounded faint from the conservatory beyond. 
The duke bounded to his feet, and wishing 
to save the girl confusion, went to meet the 
old lady, his step uncertain and the blood 
reeling in his brain. With one or two words 
of polite good-night, he found himself dismissed, 
and Mrs Van Eyck went forward to conduct 
Kitty to her pillow. I am glad that is over,” 
thought the old lady. '‘Some men are so 
impetuous, and a girl of Kitty’s temperament 
cannot understand. To-morrow, thank heaven ! 
all my responsibilities will be at an end. Come, 
my dear,” she added aloud, " I want you to let 
Barton see you to sleep ; you are not strong, 
and need your long night’s repose.” 

Kitty, trembling still, attempted to rise. 

“ Grandmother,” she began. Something in 
her tone warned Mrs Van E3’ck of approaching 
danger ; she interposed quickly with, — 

“ My darling, we will not talk to-night. You 


The American Duchess 


356 

are tired, and everytliiiig seems strange and 
difficult to you,” she added Avith diplomacy. 
“ We will retire, and in the morning you shall 
talk to me.” 

As she wound her arm about Kitty, and led 
her towards the great staircase, the old woman 
made a mental note that, in the morning, there 
should be no time for any further conversation, 
nor any moment for relenting. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THP: AMERICAN DUCHESS 

** I held it truth, with him who sings 
To one clear harp in clivers tones, 

That men may rise on stepping-stones 
' Of their dead selves to higher things.” 

Alfred Tennyson. 

A very quiet party assembled in one of the 
reception rooms of Mrs Van Eyck’s Newport 
home. As Kitty was in deep mourning, there 
could be no fashionable gathering or great 
assemblage. Only the members of the family 
were to be present at the wedding. 

Old Nan was up betimes ; she was so restless 
that she could not sleep, and left her bed soon 
after dawn. Her conscience troubled her, 
for she had had a letter from Bessie’s father 
and mother, to whom the news of the proposed 
wedding had only just become known, com- 
manding her to tell Kitty all, before the 
irrevocable step was taken. Nan’s affection 
for the duke, as well as for Kitty, made her 
357 


The American Duchess 


358 

hesitate, and her great fciir of Kitty’s grand- 
mother, whom she looked upon as a most 
terrible old woman, confirmed her in her 
desire to keep the contents of her letter to 
herself. “At least,” she thought weakly, “I 
shall let the wedding be over first.” 

So it happened that poor little Kitty, weak 
with illness, and broken-hearted over her father’s 
death, her mind possessed by a foolish idea 
that, because of his great passion for her, she 
ought to sacrifice herself and become the wife 
of the duke, went on to her fate, when one 
enlightening word as to past events might 
have saved her from a future of much suffering, 
peril, and regret. She, in so innocently sacrific- 
ing herself, was not aware that she was also 
destroying the happiness of Malcolm’s life. He, 
poor fellow, kept informed of events by Uncle 
Tom, watched the course these events were 
taking in shaping the future of his beloved, 
with each day more poignant suffering. Since 
his father’s death, his mother’s severe illness 
had rendered it impossible fur him to think of 
leaving her, otherwise he would have returned 
to New York. He was in doubt as to what 
course he ought to pursue, for, naturally, he was 
not cogtiisant of what Kitty’s real feelings were 


The American Duchess 359 

towards the duke, and, knowing that she was 
engaged to the hitter, he naturally supposed 
that she loved her intended husband ; and in 
this case no one had any right to interfere 
and cause disunion between them. Thus 
Malcolm was obliged to stand and watch, help- 
less to change the course of events. 

Old Mrs Van Eyck’s strict orders upon the 
morning of the wedding were that, until she 
went herself to superintend the toilet of the 
bride, no one should enter Kitty’s room, nor in 
any way disturb her. The sleeping-draught did 
its sootliing work well, and the poor young 
bride slept on, innocent of the fact, that the 
morning of her bridal day was far advanced, 
and that her new life was coming towards her 
with giant strides. Uncle Tom went about 
the house in miserable plight ; his affection for 
both Malcolm and Kitty made him ill-like this 
marriage, and he longed to be able to arrest it, 
but lacked the courage necessary to taking a 
decisive step. Mrs Van Eyck alone was content ; 
she felt that nothing short of a catastrophe 
could now supervene to hinder the wedding 
which she had so much at heart. 

Kitty awoke to find her grandmother and 


360 


The American Duchess 



Nan standing by lier bedside full of congratula- 
tions and assumed delight in her supposed 
happiness. For a moment the girl was dazed, 
not understanding, then, like a Hash, she grasped 
the situation, and with a sickening sense of 
horrible loss, realised that it was the last morn- 
ing of her virgin life. She was sitting up 
amidst her pillows, her cheeks hushed like those 
of an awakening child, her eyes looking 
frightened and very bright, and her magnificent 
hair falling about her in masses of red-gold, 
upon which the sunshine from the window threw 
its wanton kisses. She looked up pitifully 
into the faces of the other two, twisting her 
little hands together as she did so. 

“Come, my dear,” said her grandmother, in 
calm, unfeeling voice, “ the duke will soon be 
here, and everything is in readiness.” She 
said this in a tone which admitted of no 
discussion, and the girl sitting there felt that 
there could be none now, matters had gone 
too far for looking back. 

“ Send me Marie, grandmamma.” 

“No, I shall m3’self superintend everything, 
as I should have done for your mother, had 
she but let me,” she went on, with a shade 
of added bitterness. 


The American Duchess 361 

Nan at these words stooped and kissed her 
darling ; the girl’s lips trembled, and Mrs Van 
Eyck, seeing signs of breaking down in her, 
suggested, and forced her to drink a cordial 
which she had provided. At this moment 
Marie entered with a lovely basket of w’hite 
orchids from the duke. Poor Kitty, gazing 
at them, felt as if she were already dead, and 
she assisting at her own obsequies. The 
sleeping - draught’s effects filled her mind 
with fantasies, and she was not yet entirely 
herself. 

• • • • • • • • • 

The blessing was given, the last words said 
which made Kitty Duchess of Chandos. She 
stood beside her husband responding to the 
congratulations of those about her with a 
strained, haunted look in her eyes, and her 
sweet, child’s face white as her bridal robes. 
The duke looked triumphant ; he was think- 
ing, “ Mine at last ! nothing can separate us 
now ! ” So powerful were his feelings that 
they blinded him to the fact that a deadly 
faintness was overcoming poor little Kitty. 
The heavy perfume of the flowers about her 
grew sickening, the room with its groups of 
people reeled before her darkening sight, the 


362 The American Duchess 

voices sounding far away as if coming from 
some other world, then darkness. . . . 

Uncle Tom sprang to Kitty’s side in time 
to save her from falling to the ground. Mrs 
Van Eyck hastened to apply restoratives, the 
duke, taking Kitty from Tom’s arms, cursed 
himself mentally for his want of thought ; and 
Nan — w’ell, Nan’s conscience began to trouble 
her once more. “ It is an evil omen ! ” she 
gasped to herself. “ It is an evil omen ! ” 
But nobody troubled themselves with poor, 
weak, kind, old Nan, and she was left to 
work whatever mischief might suggest itself 
to her. Having put off what she considered 
an unpleasant duty until the eleventh hour, 
she now feebly determined to right herself with 
conscience by confessing all to Kitty as soon 
as she could find herself alone with her. 

Kitty stood once more in her own room, 
being gowned for her wedding journey. The 
duke, whose affairs were really most urgently 
in need of his presence in England, had 
determined to take his bride there at once. 
He had also a selfish longing to take her 
from every association which could remind 
her of the past. He wanted ber all to hiiU' 


The American Duchess 363 

self, and liis jealous nature resented tlie idea 
of his wife having any other interest than 
himself He was keenly sensitive to the fact 
that, although now master of her destiny, he 
was not yet master of her heart ; and he had 
determined that, once his wife, the accom- 
plishment of this latter victory would be 
easy. He remembered the old days, down 
South, when, by assiduous devotion to her, 
and patience, he had almost persuaded Kitty 
to believe she loved him, and lie cursed 
Bessie’s mad passion for him, which, interven- 
ing, had ruined all. 

Mrs Van Eyck determined that nothing 
untoward should happen, had not left the 
bride’s side, and was busy giving orders to 
her own and Kitty’s maid, who, at last, was 
to have her dearest wish accomplished, and 
go abroad with the duchess. Old Nan hung 
about, each moment growing more wretched, 
and seeing that she would have no opportunity 
allowed her for speech alone with Kitty. 

Kitty herself looked happier. After moments 
of great depression come others of exhilara- 
tion, whether false or true, and each equally 
serves to divert the mind from oppressing 
thoughts, 


364 The American Duchess 

The duke had shown himself devoted in 
aiding Kitty’s recovery from her fainting-fit, 
and he told himself that to gain her heart 
would be easy, as he noted the grateful smile 
in her blue eyes in response for the little 
kindly offices he was performing for her. 
Kitty, upon her part, felt soothed and almost 
happy ; it was sweet thus to he loved ; she 
would do her utmost to love him in return. 
Impatient of the time they took to prepare 
her for their journey to New York, the duke 
came to the open boudoir door and looked in. 
Kitty blushed as she looked up and encountered 
his passionate gaze fixed upon her, and then 
bowed her head a little as her sweet eyes fell 
before the fire of his. 

Half-an-hour later they were in the closed 
carriage, the jealous down-drawn blinds guard- 
ing the new-made bride from every curious 
gaze. Kitty’s happy mood continued. With 
delight her husband saw this, and turning to 
her, wound his arms about her with passionate 

joy- 

“What shall I answer sister Kitty and 
brother Tom ? ” wailed Nan to herself that 
night, as she sat sobbing upon the side of 


The American Duchess 365 

her luxurious bed. She felt like a mother 
bereaved of her little one in losing Kitty, and 
her tears came fast and many. By-and-by 
the moon rose and flooded the room about 
her with its rays. 

“ I ean still do it,” cried Nan, starting to 
her feet and going to the wide-open window 
to drink in the fresh breeze. “ I can write it 
to her, and then, all the same, I can say to 
the folks at home that I have told her.”. 


Note . — The sequel to this book will shortly 
appear under the title of An International 
Marriage. 


THE END 




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